Beginning of the End
by Hlbur14
Summary: A year after the events of Don't Let Me Fall, Claudia Thatcher has everything figured out. She had the perfect relationship with her sister, a wonderful best friend and an unknowingly infamous boyfriend. She thought that everything about her past was over and forgotten. What she isn't prepared for is the demons she is to face, for the fall has only just begun.
1. Prologue

I never imagined it would come to this. A year ago I was a sixteen year old girl jumping from a building because my parents were dead. A year ago is when I was caught in a web before being devoured in a chaotic life. A year ago is when I fell in love, found a best friend and brought my relationship with my sister back to life.

It began with a fall, but that and everything following was just the prologue.

I always knew that if I were to die it would be for the ones I held dear. Those people consisted of just three. I failed them. A year ago they found and rescued me, but the fall wasn't over.

The wind in my hair, the taste of rubbery, dying flesh on my tongue and the smell of my own blood strong in the air, I listened to the cackling voice above me and focussed on the hands gripping my shoulders too tightly. I heard a voice but no words, instead watching the city blur in the night below. Everywhere hurt, but I couldn't feel the pain the way I should have. Everything was over. What was beautiful before, so open and accessible, was now just a dream that was light years away from my grasp.

A year ago, a late sixteen year old girl rebuilt her shattered, tormented life. Now an eighteen year old girl followed something far worse than the death of her family, or even herself.

"You'll like being mad," he said in my ear over the wind. "It doesn't get boring."

The city flipped, the lights blurring together with disorientating beauty, and everything ended the way it began; with a long, deafening, killer fall.

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**I'm sure you can tell, but should this story go ahead completely as planned, then I warn you that I am going to be very, very mean...**


	2. Running

**Okay so I'm back! This one will, like the last one, take on slightly different approaches from the film but will follow the same time line. I apologise but I won't be able to update as regularly as before because now I have two jobs and college to attend with, but I will update as often as I can. **

**Feel free to drop in your own ideas, thoughts, or predictions for what you think might happen in this one, but I warn you it's not going to be smooth sailing for these guys this time; I was _nice _in Don't Let Me Fall ;) **

**If you haven't read Don't Let Me Fall then I suggest you do before you read this one, which you can find on my profile :)**

**I do not own any characters apart from my OCs, the rest belong to Marvel and Stan Lee.**

**Enjoy guys!**

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Running was my new hobby. It was partly because it made me strong, but mostly because it was all I could do these days. Running meant I was able to keep up with the train that never stopped. With three jobs, school, and a boyfriend who swung through the air rather than caught the bus, it was all I could do to keep up. And honestly? I was pretty damn good at running.

I fled the little café on the corner from mine and my sister's homely apartment. I was already late enough as it was, but I had a game. Peter would be late, that much was inevitable. My agenda was to beat him. I had ten minutes to get to my high school graduation ceremony, where Gwen would no doubt have been at since before it had begun. That girl needed to get a little bit of adventure in her life! But no, ten minutes was all I had, and it was a twenty minute walk from here.

"Run, girl!" my fellow waitress called after me from the doors as I zipped into the merciless traffic of Manhattan. I flicked my arm up in a brief goodbye gesture, all the while dodging screaming cars and taxis with the best of my abilities. A very angry looking cabbie sounded his horn at me and yelled unintelligible words, but all I could do was laugh out my insincere apology.

Running now was like coming home. To have my blood pumping, my heart pounding, and my chest burning was like being alive for the first time. It was a challenge to get past the wall that meant being able to run forever, but it was a challenge I had faced every day for the last year or so. It was the build up to knocking that wall down that exhilarated me, because knowing I could do it meant I had a sense of empowerment on what the human body shouldn't have been able to withstand.

I leapt onto the pavement and sped through the sea of people. Some faces I recognised, even if they were briefly glimpsed. I ran around this area almost every day, so to have a speeding teenager became a regular occurrence. People jumped out of my way without complaint, others called out to me with words like "Off again, are we, kid?" It wasn't often now that someone shouted in disapproval, at least not anymore.

I felt the wall in the burn of my throat. Skidding to the left I flung myself into yet another road, weaving between the cars like a dancer following an endlessly practiced routine. I mentally saw myself darting towards the wall without any intention of stop, and the pain was almost agonising. I grinned. It was this pain that was the promise of endless running hereafter, and just in time, too.

I looked up after reaching another pavement safely, and that was when I saw him. Between the skyscrapers before the blinding sun was Peter, clad in blue and red with overly white eyes glittering in the sun. He swung down, his body reforming unnaturally as he readied for a countering swing to that of many. I heard the hissing of his web shooters as he released a new wire of webbing into the distance, shouting gleefully as he swung far up into the sky. Time slowed down; everyone paused to stare and cheer at the spider-like silhouette before the sun. He was beautiful—_and he was winning_.

The bastard swung around a street that was headed towards the graduation ceremony.

I pushed on, breaking down the wall without so much as a blink. Running became easier, my breathing even but heavy and my legs lighter than paper. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that I was flying.

A second later I felt my phone buzz in my jeans pocket. I groaned loudly and struggled to get it out of my pocket as I sped through the people of New York. I didn't see who the caller was because it was one of three people, one of which was working all day.

"Yeah?" I panted.

"Where _are _you? It starts in five minutes and you and Peter aren't here? _Stop messing around!" _Gwen sounded furious and I could only laugh, all the while ducking beneath a couple's intertwined hands before they could even react to my approach.

"Take it easy, I'm almost there." I said, not completely lying. "And you might want to call Peter, he's not with me."

"You're racing him again, aren't you?"

"Of course not."

"_Claudia Evelyn Thatcher_."

_Why did I ever tell you my middle name? Oh, wait, I didn't because you _googled _it._ "Don't middle name me, woman. Harass Parker!" I hung up as I jumped into the final hurdle of traffic.

The sound of sirens shrieked in the distance and I inwardly laughed. If Peter was anything, he wasn't one to ignore the law when it needed him in action. Sprinting down the street that led to my destination, I didn't allow myself to get distracted the way Peter would be.

The running was to keep up with the speeding train of living, but it was also a distraction. The sounds of blurring voices, screeching cars and feel of my body battling to face the unnatural exercise, I was able to forget reality for a little while. Mum and dad had died just over a year ago now, shot in the street while I was left in a street damp with their blood. It was also closing in on a year that Rick Hammond had plotted to kill us for our money. He'd already gotten rid of mum and dad thanks to firing some thugs, but apparently I wasn't meant to survive the night. His intentions had been to marry my sister Martha and build a 'happy' lie together in the aftermath of me and my parent's deaths, but such a plan turned into one of kidnap, beatings and a non-fatal gunshot.

A lot had happened since then, but they were memories I was not willing to dwell on just yet. Running meant escape. It meant being as free as a bird, and it was the closest to flying I would ever get if you took out the web slinger than was Peter. I dreamed about running off of a building top only to soar in the air, the wind tousling my hair while I howled my joy to the world. It was that dream I fought to reach but would never grasp, but this was good enough. The pain on my burning muscles was enough to keep my mind at bay from dangerous corridors.

But I couldn't help but think that my parents wouldn't see me graduate.

Running, running, running.

It didn't take long to know that the race was over before it had begun. Two minutes before the start of the ceremony, people stopped around me and pointed, some cheers while others gasped in surprise. I didn't need to stop to know who it was, only push on harder. It was useless.

"Need a ride?" called an all too familiar, cocky, wonderful voice behind me. The next thing I knew I felt a truck zip past with, followed by an arm grabbed me around the waist and lifting my feet off the ground. I yelled out in annoyance and clung to the alter ego that was Spiderman, yet over the noise and roaring of Peter's unintended taxi I could hear his laughter.

"I win."

"We draw." I snapped.

"No, I _win._"

"This is cheating, hotshot."

The boy in the mask tipped his head back and laughed, while I smacked his shoulder with one fist while the other clung to the rail of the truck. Travelling like this wasn't new to me anymore; in fact, living the way I did, it was a regular occurrence. Even Gwen got a taste of it from time to time. What used to scare me no long did, such as the possibly ending of my life should I fall out of Peter's grip right now. I knew I wouldn't, though. Peter would never let me fall.

Gwen didn't waste time in getting on Peter's back. His phone rang angrily in his boot, her fury intelligible even through an electric device. Pulling it free while effortlessly keeping me firmly in his hold, he answered. Like me he sounded very guilty about his whereabouts, like a child caught red handed sneaking into the cookie jar. After brief exchanged words Peter hung up, grabbed me tighter, and leapt into the air towards Midtown High School.

Peter smelled of everything sweet and sour all at the same time, a little like his personality. Most of the time he could be king and loving; a wonderful friend, perfect nephew and adoring boyfriend. People could mistake him for the perfect boy next door. But that was only the surface of what Peter was as a human being. He, like me and Gwen, was damaged by the deaths of his parents. Gwen still had her mother, but no one loved her father the way she had. I wasn't around at the time, but Peter still blamed himself for her father's death. Sometimes, like me, I caught him staring at something that wasn't there. I knew he was seeing Gwen's dad, the ghost of guilt that followed him around the way my parents did in my nightmares. On top of that, he still didn't know the truth about his parents and what had truly happened to them. At least Gwen and I had peace of mind, but Peter?

Peter swung down and we raced through the Midtown High main doors, Peter disappearing into the bathrooms while I shrugged off my backpack to grab my graduation robe and hat. I didn't want to wear it, but as my mother would have said and what Martha had said just this morning, "You'll never have to do it again, so what's the harm in just the one time?" I hated it when they actually had a point, then and now.

This ceremony was going to be the beginning of our lives, the three of us moving into the bigger, wider world. This was when we were supposedly becoming adults readying for the life of work and blissfully controlled lives, three fish among a flurry of many doing the very same thing. I was okay with that. I had never been a fan of change, so to do something that life had no doubt already planned out was just fine by me. I wanted the simple life now, the one with (almost) next to no trouble.

And, after many speeches, myself and Peter casually arriving like we weren't late and a celebratory kiss that made my head spin, I believed that from now on I was going to be happy.

Afterwards I jumped into the crowd to find my sister, who was crying and had me in a suffocating tight hug. Being with Martha was home. When I ran, it was often because I was coming home to Martha. We needed each other like flowers needed rain. Often, when I was feeling down and realistic, I thought about how no matter what, no matter who left me, I would always have Martha by my side. Should mine and Peter's relationship end or should Gwen leave to never be seen again, I knew I didn't have to be afraid. I had my sister, and she was my entire world. I had almost lost her once before and I wasn't going to let that happen again.

For the next year or so, I _was _happy. But it was a year that would end way, way too soon.

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	3. Changing

**Chapter Two, guys. This is where things begin to slowly go down hill... sorry not sorry!**

**Thanks for reading :)**

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**One Year Later**

"Almost two years." Martha murmured beside me, intertwining our fingers as we looked down on the grave with our parents' names marked on it. "Eighteen months has never felt so long."

"I know." I squeezed her hand and closed my eyes. "I wonder what they would think of their girls now?"

"That we're the strongest children they could have ever dreamed of." Martha said and released my hand, only to pull me into her side with her arm around my shoulders. I hugged her, fighting back tears that I refused to release. I shouldn't want to cry for them anymore; our months of grieving were over. But that was the thing with being an orphan—the grieving never truly ended. It was always there like a terminal disease, and no matter how much you tried to fight it or break it down, it always came back with twice the venom. I would be lying if I said the nightmares of that night had stopped, or that I didn't sometimes cry myself to sleep. I wanted to be strong and I was, but nothing could change the fact that I was human with a heart of fragile glass. I had shattered once, and even though I had been put back together, it didn't mean the blood didn't leak through the cracks.

"I miss them." I murmured.

"Me too." She hugged me closer and kissed my hair. "We'll be okay, though; we always are, right?"

"Yeah, but we always take a beating for it."

"Don't."

"It's true."

"It doesn't need to be said out loud."

I may have faced up to my experiences in the final days of Rick Hammond in our lives. I even laughed them off. But Martha knew me better than that. She had woken me in the night many times screaming for her, afraid that Rick was going to kill her. I often dreamt of lying in a gutter watching a retreating car, crying and gasping in excruciating pain. Rick had beaten me half to death that night and had left me for dead, and while I struggled to reach him for one last stand down, he had been attempting to kill Martha while taunting her of my presumed death. Bastard. I hoped he would rot in hell.

Martha never got over it, either. She hated it when someone approached her from behind now, jumping a mile if she was unprepared. I couldn't blame her; she had been attacked in her own home just under a year ago, so anyone who judged her clearly needed to have that experience in their own lives. She didn't trust men anymore, either. Many men had approached her over the months but she was as blind as a bat to their advances. Sometimes I'd point out that a guy liked her, but even then she would just smile sadly and not comment. I doubted she could ever settle down now, and even if she could then the guy would have to be the most patient of men.

Bending down, I placed down the flowers I had been cradling.

**Mark Thatcher and Ashley Thatcher,**

**Happily married and beloved parents.**

**May they forever rest in peace.**

**Ashley – 1st October 1976 – 27th September 2012**

**Mark – 18th February 1974 – 27th September 2012**

Mom's favourite flowers had been tulips, which was what I had placed down now. She had told us that they were the flowers dad bought her on their first date together, and they were the flowers that made up the bouquet at their wedding. Every six months before they died, we used to have a vase of red tulips in the house, the first in memory of their first date and the second in memory of their wedding anniversary. Whenever I saw or smelled tulips, I thought of mom.

It was depressing how I could hardly remember her face now.

"Happy anniversary, guys." I whispered, brushing my fingers over their names. "We love you."

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Gwen worked a lot now. While we used to go out shopping a lot or spend evenings watching either chick flicks or horror movies, now I was lucky to get one phone call from her a week. It never annoyed me as such, but more saddened me. Gwen was the first person I could have truly called a best friend and meant it, for the best friend before her abandoned me when I needed them most. Gwen had been the annoying know-it-all in school who got under my skin and bounced from my dark attitude, thus wedging herself firmly in my life. I never regretted it. She had been there through thick and thin with me, and even accepted mine and Peter's relationship despite the fact that they had once been an item. I was never annoyed at her; I just missed her.

Things were changing. A year ago, Peter, Gwen and me had been celebrating together in honour of our graduation. Now we were lucky if we got a single hour together. Why did things have to change?

I was back at the beginning again, minus the depression. Gwen was never around anymore, Peter spent more time as his alter ego, and Martha was constantly working. She was a trainee teacher now, and spent most of her evenings marking papers or supervising after school clubs. She often said she could stop so she could be at home, but I was not going to rob her of pursuing her ambition.

Tonight was a night I would normally be spending with Gwen. I even had the movie picked out for us to watch; _A Nightmare on Elm Street. _However, just under half an hour before she was due over, she rang to say that work needed her to stop for a few more hours which meant movie night was a no-go. I couldn't bring myself to be annoyed at her so old her it was fine. Now I ate the popcorn and watched the film alone, yet I didn't really engage in it like I normally would have.

Eventually, with the bowl of popcorn propped on my stomach and half empty, I fell asleep.

_"Martha?" I called out into the darkness. I didn't feel in touch with my body but I knew I was afraid. I couldn't fathom what of, though. All I knew was that I needed Martha and that she wasn't here. All I knew was that I needed to find her and quickly. "Martha!" _

_I was in the heart of New York, yet it shone without a soul in sight. It was like something from a horror film, like humanity no longer existed. I couldn't hear the people or hear the traffic, I couldn't see the blur of bodies or feel the heat of society. It was like a corpse, a body without a beating heart, and it terrified me. _

_"Martha, where are you?"_

_"Claudia!" someone yelled, but it wasn't Martha. I spun and saw someone running towards me, all blonde hair and grey eyes. Gwen. She was running at me with the desperation of a mad woman, screaming words I couldn't understand. But then she said the one word that described everything about my life. "Run, Claudia!" _

_"Where's Martha?" I shrieked when she reached me, catching my elbow and yanking me with her. _

_"Forget her!"_

"NO!" _I howled, forcefully pushing her away at her words. _

_"We have to get out of here!" _

_"Where's my sister?!" _

_The world stopped for a minute, and even thought Gwen was still running, she turned to look at me with a look sharper than a knife's edge. "She's gone, Claudia. Rick killed her." She stopped and moulded her expression into one of confusion. "Don't you remember?" _

_But I was already falling. The ground disappeared from below me, making me topple down, down, down like Alice descending into the madness of Wonderland. I could hear Martha screaming for me, yet I couldn't see her in the madness of the falling. I tried yelling out to her but it was no use. I just kept falling, unable to do anything but await my own shocking, never arriving fate. _

"Claudia? Hey, _hey_, Claudia! Wake up, you're okay, wake up."

I shook violently in someone's arms. It took me a second to realise that the screaming filling the room was my own. I bolting up right, sweat dampening my forehead and making my clothes stick to my body in an uncomfortable fashion. I fought who ever clung to me for the briefest of seconds until I succumbed to their whispering in my ear, their fingers gently brushing my sides, the warmth of their body bringing me out of the nightmare. I didn't open my eyes but instead buried my face in his shoulder, controlling my breathing with great effort.

Peter remained quiet and rocked us, rubbing my back while repeatedly kissing my hair. He smelled like the night and the city, a mix of car fumes and cool air. It was strangely comforting. Having Peter close made me feel safe in my own skin, and not because of his inhuman strength or intelligent mind. He was my other half. He was me; broken, lost and frightened. He had his demons and I had mine, so together we could fight the monsters in the dark by being together.

"You okay?" he whispered after a few minutes.

"It was the dream again. The one where Martha isn't… where she's…"

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here now. Nothing is ever going to happen to you and Martha again, I promise." He lifted my face up to kiss me tenderly, but it lacked the fire it used to have. I looked up at him sadly.

"You can't promise that." Before he could protest I placed my fingers over his lips. "How can you when you have a whole city needing you?"

"I have to, Claudia." He sighed, kissing my fingers softly.

"And I want you to. I want you to be who you are and do what you believe, just don't make promises you can't keep." I pulled him down to me to kiss him meaningfully, soothing his tense muscles in his back with my hands. He relaxed after a few moments as he kissed me slowly, all the while hugging me closer and closer, as if a single bit of space between us was painful for him to endure. It wasn't like the possessiveness of a man, or the desire of a couple, but the need to remind himself that I was there.

"I will keep you safe, all of you; you, Martha and Gwen. I'll always be there." He murmured against my lips.

"But you're never here anymore." I told him as gently as I could. When the pain hit his eyes, I gently cupped his face. "I'm not going to be that girl who wants you here every day, twenty-four-seven. As I said, I want you to do what you know is right. I want you to fight and protect the people who need you. And it's okay that you're not here much now, that's alright; I get it. Just don't forget that being who you are doesn't come without consequences." I kissed him on his forehead. "Everything is bigger than us now, Parker."

"I love you, you know."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I can't keep the nightmares away."

"I'm a brave girl."

"That you are." He hugged me tightly, burying his face in my neck. I softly stroked his hair and whispered soft words to him. He trembled against me, and I couldn't help but think everything that was good between us had been a dream. Reality was making us fall apart, but I couldn't let him go, not yet. I wasn't giving up on us just yet.

Yet, when I woke up the next morning on the sofa, alone and cold, I could feel him slipping away from me just a little bit more.

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**Told you I was going to be mean... Drop in your reviews!**


	4. Torn Apart

**Not gonna lie, I'm pretty damn mean in this one, please don't hate me..**

**Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows, keep em coming and the chapters will keep flowing!**

**Sorry for the delayed update, I promise to update as often as I can, but for now enjoy!**

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The first time I saw Harry Osborn, it was before Peter had reunited with him. It had been in the streets of New York on a summer's day, where the sun was beaming down so brightly while radiating the warmth of calmness and hope. The city no longer feared everyday crimes like robberies or murder. The heat of summer reflected the drastic change Spiderman had brought, the beam of light overlooking a new age.

I remember Harry looking dishevelled and exhausted, but at the same time professional and handsome in a very strange way. While his dark hair fell into his eyes in an awkward swept-to-the-side style, his suit gave him an essence of tranquillity and severe importance. At the time I didn't know who he was, yet his appearance was one of a powerful heir to a father or mother. Wealthy and good looking, he didn't need to look perfect. The broken and messed up was the new sexy in this day and age.

Yet he unnerved me, even on that day before I knew his name. He looked and frightened, like a boy who had just found out their pet dog had died. Walking too quickly his shoulder bumped against mine pretty hard, knocking me. I gasped as I spun, losing my footing, but he caught my elbow to steady me.

"Sorry, sorry." he said a little breathily. Our eyes met for the briefest of seconds before he sped off again, but in those seconds he saw me, memorised me. I watched him take in my dark hair and blue eyes, my pale skin and slim frame. It was like a computer scanning me to memory. "Sorry." he said one last time before he sped away, jumping into a sleek black car and disappearing into the city traffic.

That was the day I met Harry Osborn, but he hadn't met me. That was the day that would haunt me for the rest of my life, and would be the dream before the nightmare in Harry's world.

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I didn't see Peter much anymore. Gwen, neither. They changed from the most important people in my life to the ghosts of them, appearing when I least expected it. They felt like tricks of the light, my mind seeing what it wanted to see, and half the time I wondered if they were real at all, wondered if the past year had all just been a wonderfully cruel dream.

Gwen suffered, too. Peter had pulled away from her entirely, so of course that affected our friendship, too. I reminded Gwen of Peter, Peter reminded me of Gwen; it was impossible. We divided like the ice in the Antarctic and drifted in different directions only to attach to new lifestyles; Peter as the role of Spiderman, Gwen and her career, and me with several jobs that meant I had no time for myself.

When Peter did visit on late nights or during rushed stopovers at my work, we had little to say. After his last visit claiming he would promise impossible things, I didn't see him for a month. I understood that he was adjusting to the increasing demand to his alter ego's life, for criminal life and accidents were forever challenging him, but I also knew that a relationship where the girl only knew if her boyfriend was alright was through the news and newspapers wasn't a healthy one.

Gwen avoided me in fear, due to the fact that she thought I was with Peter all the time. I couldn't blame her, but I also couldn't blame Peter for doing what he did. He blamed himself for her father's death, and while she believed their friendship meant more than that promise, Peter couldn't risk her fate. I heard all about this in the early days of this happening, both from frantic, tearful phone calls to hasty, awkward meetings. Gwen had shown up on my doorstep, tears down her cheeks, and had thrown herself into my arms. I'd flinched, not because it hurt but because I was no good at that kind of thing. I didn't console people and they didn't console me. I fought my own battles, but I wasn't brave enough to endure someone else's war.

"I've lost Peter, Claudia, I've lost him. How could he do this? How could he be so _selfish_?" she'd sobbed into my neck, clinging to me like I was her lifeline.

I hadn't said a word. Instead I let her hug the life out of me, weakly hugging her back. It was times like that where I wished I could communicate better. I wanted to be there for her and be the best friend she needed in that moment, but what I wanted more was to run away into the city and disappear in the crowds. Peter wasn't the selfish one, I was.

Yet I tried, but try as I might didn't mean things would go the way we wanted them to. After that Gwen didn't come over anymore. A few weeks after she stopped texting. A month passed and I got nothing at all.

Peter was sucked into that hole soon after. A month of brief visits and hasty phone calls, he did the idiotic thing of giving up. He _gave up. _Arriving in my room in the dead of night, my sister sound asleep just across the hall, he woke me to end everything.

This leads us to my slapping him across the face.

"How _dare _you?" I growled, crouched in the shadows of my room, the mattress of my bed soft under my bare feet. Peter, dressed in his Spiderman outfit minus the mask, stood at the foot of my bed holding a stinging cheek. Fire blazed across my hand from where I had hit him.

The anger that ignited inside me was so strange and yet so familiar. I felt like I was reliving the nightmare of my old life, back in the months of Rick Hammond in my home. After the death of my parents I knew that that anger would always be there no matter what I did or what the people around me did. It was that anger that made me who I was now and murdered the girl I was before the September of two-thousand and twelve. This anger is what kept me alive and alert, ready for anything; even the breaking of my own heart.

"How _dare _you come in here, at half three in the morning, telling me you want to _end _us. _What is the matter with you?_"

"I love you, you know that, but I just can't _be _with you." He told me, reaching out to me in a way that I both wanted and refused to endure. I flinched away from his hands, backing up into the wall like he was a dangerous animal. It pained him enough that tears pricked his eyes. "Claudia, _please _understand why. The more people I help, the more things I do to change society, the more enemies I make. There are things far worse than death, and you know it. You and Gwen are two of the most important people in my life; losing you both would _destroy _me."

Tears were in my own eyes, my anger and hurt bubbling up to the surface like the lava in a volcano. A month of distance, a month of expectation, yet I still couldn't believe it was happening. "You are a _coward._" I snarled.

He didn't miss a beat. "I would rather be that than the one to hold your cold body. I would rather be a coward than the one who caused you pain or even got you killed."

"You don't get it, do you?" I snapped, creeping back, they prey becoming the predator. "You wanted this. You wanted _us. _You fought for us! When I turned you away, you didn't give up on me. You chased me around, you pushed me down only to pick me up and teach me to be stronger. You _made _me who I am now, you _and_ Gwen. It doesn't matter what you do or say now, it's what you did and said back then." I clenched my hands at my sides, my nails digging in to my palms, almost breaking the skin. I saw red the way I used to, and it was then that I knew; you couldn't change people. We all had two sides, and there was always one that was impossible to tame. No matter how loyal and gentle, there is a bite to every person just waiting to latch on to skin. "I knew you would do this. I knew it was coming; first Gwen and now me. Honestly, that part is f_ine_, but what pisses me off is that you are throwing away everything we both worked for because you are too cowardly to fight."

"I won't risk getting you hurt, Claudia." he said. His eyes in the low light were hard and calculating despite the tears, that nerdy brain of his in full swing. "I _won't_ do it."

"You say you don't want to hurt me or Gwen." I growled, jabbing a trembling finger into his chest. "Yet you already have. You've ripped us apart. You've thrown away everything we worked for together. Months of pestering, chasing me around, begging me to open up to you, and this is what I get? You won't even give us a chance?" Before he could speak I quickly added something else, something that in knew would hit home. "You ruined me once, Peter, and you fixed me; a second smashing won't be as easy to put back together."

"I _can't_ do this anymore." he whispered. Before I could move he grabbed my face, jumping effortlessly onto the bed, more spider than human in his movements. He rested his forehead against mine forcefully, his breath rigid and hot on my mouth. I wanted to shove him away yet the touch was so intimate that I couldn't even move my eyes from his, let alone lift my hands to hit him. "You lost your parents because I wasn't there." he told me quietly. "You went through hell because I wasn't there. But now I can be there for you, I can watch over you and protect you, but to do that I have to give you up first." He sighed heavily, exhaustion weighing him down. "I have to let you go if it means I can keep you safe."

A full minute passed between us of complete silence. I swallowed down the heavy anger in my breathing, focussed on the need for control over my emotions. He was really going through with this, and in order to keep myself from falling apart, I had to play the game. After all, I knew this was the end-game, I just didn't want to believe it would actually happen.

"Then I guess you should go." I whispered, keeping the anger down. Yet he didn't move. He just stood there holding my face in his hands, breathing slowly and in a controlled manner. I waited a second, wondering if he had even heard me, but I knew he had.

"Forgive me, Claudia." He choked.

I closed my eyes. "There is only one thing I have never been able to forgive you for, Pete, and that was for not being there when I needed you last September." I opened my eyes and stared hollowly into his brown, liquid orbs. "And now you're abandoning me again."

"No—"

"If you're cutting yourself out of my life, then you'd might as well cut yourself from it entirely." I told him thickly.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I mean don't bother keeping an eye on me, I can take care of myself." I directed my chin towards the window where the breeze blew gently, like a summer breeze trying to break through the icy air of winter. Peter blinked, clearly about to argue, but I didn't want to hear it. I pushed harshly against his chest to knock him back and towards the window. He staggered, of guard end emotionally distracted. All he could do was stare at me in astonishment and utter torment.

"_Go, _Peter." I hardened my eyes on him. "And _don't_ come back."

Another minute passed before he vanished into the night and I collapsed on my mattress to silently sob into my pillow. Call me selfish, call me cruel; even call me a bitch, but I was damaged enough. The anger never went away. The fear of abandonment was always there eating at the back of my mind. The lack of control in my life was forever spreading like poison in my bloodstream.

As I cried, Martha crept into my room. She didn't say a word. She didn't ask me anything. She simply lay down beside me and slept, not even touching me. Martha let me cry because it was all I could do in that moment, and while she didn't comfort me in the way most siblings would, all I needed was to know she was beside me before I calmed down.

Like I'd predicted, Peter and Gwen were gone, at least for now. Martha was still here, though, and I intended to keep her there for as long as I could. So I slept, content with the idea that she was still with me, alive and breathing, warm and gentle and kind and everything I wasn't. That was what I needed. Yet, unfortunately for me, she was only the morphine to the pain of a breaking heart. She couldn't heal it, only numb it. Sooner or later I would have to suffer alone. That's how it always ended up with me. I always ended up alone.

Alone was all that was good for people like me.

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**Sorry not sorry? Yeah, no? Meh, reviews anywho!**


	5. Six Weeks

**Chapter Five! Told you I was gonna be mean but this one's a little more friendly for you :) Keep the reviews, faves and follows coming in, you know how much I appreciate them!**

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Six weeks passed after that before I saw Gwen again.

I was working at my waitressing job when she arrived, dressed in a pleasant blue dress that turned her hair golden and her eyes into blue diamonds. She was beautiful, brighter than the sun while I was the look of night. She looked healthy and annoyingly perfect, and anyone else would have thought so. But I was her best friend, so the pain in her eyes was something I couldn't miss. It was the pain of a broken girl trapped in a perfect body. It was the pain of a girl who needed her friend.

I was amazed that she still remembered when I finished my shift on a Friday evening. Arriving at five to six, I had time to hang up my apron and collect my wages while she sat herself down at a table by the windows. She watched the city blur by as she waited for me, not ordering anything. I asked the girl I'd been working with for a coffee for me and a cappuccino for Gwen with extra chocolate sprinkles (her favourite).

It felt weird seeing her again. It had been just under six weeks since we'd seen or heard from one another, and a lot could happen in six weeks. By the look on her face, I knew yet another change was coming. Gwen was one of those people where, to the naked eye, she appeared to be happy and accomplished in her life. Granted, she was. She had the brain of a scientist ready for anything, so it was no surprise that she worked at Oscorp, the city's highest accomplishing company known.

I never really understood what Oscorp was about, only that it was very technical and way out of my field. Another thing I knew about Oscorp, though, was that it was the origin of Peter's birth as Spiderman, and frankly that was enough to send me running. Don't get me wrong, I admired Peter and his powers as much as the next girl, but to know that it had happened somewhere as secret and clever as Oscorp was out of my comfort zone.

"So… how are you?" Gwen asked at last as I sat opposite her, setting down her steaming, frothy drink. Her eyes sparkled with recognition and appreciation, locking onto mine with silent gratitude. I smiled at her, but it was a thin one.

"I'm alright, I guess." I said. "Had better days, though."

"I know that feeling." she said with a thin smile of her own. "A lot's changed over the last year or so, hasn't it?"

I didn't want to get into that. "Why are you here, Gwen?" I asked as gently as I could. She looked at with in surprise, like what I'd asked her was cruel, so I quickly shook my head to kill whatever assumptions she was conjuring up in that funny brain of hers. "Not that I'm not glad, Blondie, it's just that… well… it's been a while."

"I'm sorry." She closed her eyes. "I wanted to see you and Martha, but I thought that seeing Peter would just make me angry and—"

"Peter and I are over." I cut in. It was the first time I'd said it out load since that night, and it tasted like rotten fruit in my throat. Thinking it was easy, but saying it out load only made it more real.

Gwen's eyes widened in horror. "You guys aren't… _together_? What the hell happened?"

"He ended things with me because he thought it was too dangerous." I shrugged, acting like I didn't care when in reality it hurt like a bitch. "Same reason he cut all ties with you, really."

"You should have told me."

"It wasn't like you were around to tell." She flinched. "I don't blame you, though."

"I've been a crappy best friend." She sighed, placing her face in her shaking hands.

"No," I shook my head. "You were just being human." I shrugged again. "You haven't answered my question."

It took her a few seconds to conjure up the courage to tell me what was on her mind. I braced myself, feeling sweat build up on my palms as I watched her face mould into something of determination and dread. "I got offered a scholarship at Oxford University in England." She said it in a rush, like it was a breath of sour air she needed to get out of her lungs. And while she got that bad air out, it seeped right down into my own lungs like gas threatening to choke me.

"E-England?" I stuttered, staring at her in astonishment. I wanted to choke on the world. England was a void, a threat between us, the crack that would lead to the shattering of what little friendship we had left. She couldn't leave. I didn't _want _her to leave. I missed her now when she was just a phone call away—how could I cope if she was in another country all together?

"Yeah." She nodded very slowly, absorbing my reaction. "It's a huge opportunity; it could lead me into a whole new career. There are only a few places, and when I applied I never dreamed I would get the chance to go there but… well, they want me to have an interview."

"And if you get it then you'll leave?" I asked quietly.

A few moments passed. "You could always visit."

I slumped back in the chair like a deflated balloon. I always knew something like this would happen; that both Peter and Gwen would leave me. I always thought I'd be prepared for it. Yet the hollowness in my chest was something I'd hoped to never feel again. I was so shaken that I couldn't feel anything. No anger, no disappointment, just empty understanding. If there was anything I was good at, it was accepting disappointment, and that I could ready myself for the pain later. Right now, all I could do was nod.

"You know I have to, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do." I smiled weakly. "You're the cleverest person I know, you were hardly going to be the kind of person to be confined in New York." I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on the table. "That doesn't mean I'm not going to miss you, though."

She smiled, but tears welled up in her eyes. "I might not get in yet."

"Oh, you will, blondes always get the scholarships in foreign countries."

She giggled and rolled her eyes. "That's ridiculous."

I shrugged as I silently battled with the numbness. Under the table I viciously pinched my thigh, because feeling pain was better than not feeling anything at all.

"Have you told Peter yet?" I asked, ignoring how right and wrong his name sounded on my tongue.

"Haven't seen him." She said. "The only time I ever see him now is on the news."

"Look at us with the celebrity friend."

"Friend?"

"He may have broken up with me but I wouldn't cancel him out as a friend just yet." I smiled. It was true. If Peter spoke to me now, I wouldn't ignore him. He may have ended things but that didn't stop me from loving him. I was angry with him, sure, and thought he was being unreasonable, but I would never block him out of my life on purpose. After my parents died, I died with them, and the only people who brought me back to life were Peter and Gwen. Even the most broken of people could never throw that away.

In that moment, both mine and Gwen's phones buzzed on the table surface. On top of that, the name matched. Peter. We lifted our eyes, both of us frowning, and we opened the texts with equal caution.

Both of them read; _Times Square. _

"What about it?" I said out load, frowning. Gwen smiled and rolled her eyes.

"He wants us to meet him. I guess it wouldn't hurt." she said. "Unless you don't want to?"

"He told me he didn't want us together." I said a little reluctantly, meeting her eyes. She smiled a little wider.

"You know Peter, he always breaks his promises."

What else did I have to lose?

* * *

We found Peter in the streets just beyond Times Square, in a pleasant neighbourhood. The street was lit by what felt like fairy lights, and if I looked hard enough I thought I could just make out the stars up above. The air was warm around here, caressing my skin while the breeze made the perfect balance between hot and cold. Away from the main streets I felt like I could breathe here.

Gwen had gone to get us more coffee. I waited patiently for Peter to arrive. This was the spot we used to take slow strolls down on evenings exactly like this one, where we would talk and laugh and hold hands, two teens not having a care in the world. One time I remember that it started raining and we rushed to shelter, taking cover under a small overhanging roof. We still got drenched, but it didn't matter, because Peter had pulled me into the most mind blowing kiss of my life. The rain had made him taste sweeter on my mouth, and even though the rain was icy cold I had never felt so hot. His body had pushed against me, trapping me against the wall, and for those few minutes we were happy and perfect, broken but perfect.

To be here now felt strange but not wrong. It was like returning to an old home if anything else. I missed the experience, but I had moved on enough now to know that the past was the past, and what had been was no more. Life didn't stop for you to heal, you just had to keep moving and let the wounds close up on their own in their own time. I'd prepared myself before Peter had ended things, and six weeks on from that just made this experience just that bit more bearable.

I couldn't have anticipated my reaction when I saw Peter for the first time six weeks after. He looked the same as he always had, with his wild hair and goofy, almost dreamy smile. He was a man who lived in two worlds and didn't jump between the two. His lifestyles blurred together, so while he was the amazing superhero everyone knew as Spiderman, he was also the dork that some people knew as Peter Parker. Right now he walked across the roads with the reflexes of Spiderman but the mind of Peter, not caring for what was around him but focussing on one goal. While my world never stopped for me to catch up, his froze as the layers of his hopes and dreams pieced themselves together, giving him a clear image of what he wanted and what he needed to do to get it. I was the thing he wanted, but it must have been driving him crazy to know he couldn't have me anymore.

"Hi." he said after a both graceful and clumsy walk towards me, earning many strange looks and annoyed drivers. But, being Peter, he probably hadn't noticed any of them.

"Hey." I said quietly, staring at him.

"How've you been?"

"Fine."

"Me, too."

"Really?"

"No."

I smiled and dropped my chin. "Yeah, it's been hard, but I'm managing, I suppose."

"So you're not fine." It wasn't a question.

"When is anyone ever fine in this world?" I asked.

"True, but it does make me feel better that you're not entirely okay."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that, like me, you haven't let go just yet." He smiled and reached for my face with his hand, but I instantly flinched away from him.

"Don't think I haven't tried." I said lowly, warning him off. "You broke things between us, Peter, and as far as I'm concerned it stays that way."

The pain was unmistakable on his face. I knew I was being harsh, but I couldn't be one of those girls who went back and forth with a guy; either he wanted me or he didn't. I wasn't a toy he could get bored of but then want to play with a few weeks later. I had built up my walls far too high for a boy to break them down with simple words and warm touches. He made a choice, so I made mine.

"I'm sorry, Claudia." he whispered, leaning against a tree we were stood near. I looked at my feet, not daring to look at his eyes. "Truly I am."

"I'm sure you are, but it doesn't change what you did." I looked at him then with the determination of making my own vow. "You wanted to end our relationship because you thought it was the right thing to do. That's fine. I can even be friends with you. But I can't go back to being with you if it means you will only back out again once things get rough."

"Alright." he nodded after a brief pause. "Where's Gwen?"

"Here." Gwen said behind us. In a small tray were three take-out cups; a cappuccino, a standard coffee and a hot chocolate. Peter smiled at Gwen, but his back stiffened. Maybe the whole experience of reuniting us was more daunting for him than it was for us. Maybe it wasn't until now that he realised just how much he missed us. Gwen handed him the hot chocolate.

"Friends unite once more?" she said with a small grin.

"Something like that." Peter nodded.

"Well maybe we should start from the beginning." I suggested.

"How'd you figure?" asked Peter.

"How about with crap like, 'hello stranger, how've you been? What stories do you have to tell us?'"

"You sound about as serious as the Joker from batman." Gwen said with the roll of her eyes. I turned to her and offered a malicious grin over the lid of my coffee cup.

"Why so serious?"

"My God."

And it was like we'd never been apart. For a very short, blissful half an hour, it felt like we were still the goofy friends from high school. Peter talked and joked about how life at home was becoming difficult, so much so that his aunt May wouldn't even let him do his own laundry for fear he would turn everything blue and red. I was amazed she was still oblivious to what her nephew got up to these days. Gwen talked about work and home life, explained that her brothers were following in their father's footsteps to get in to the police force, and that everything was going well. I had little to say, but I was quite happy to listen.

The atmosphere changed when the topic of Gwen possible relocation hit home. Peter stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Gwen with the eyes of a kicked puppy. "_England_?"

"For a scholarship in Oxford." she said with mild enthusiasm, but the fear in her eyes was clear. I reached out and gently squeezed her wrist.

"W-when… h-h-how…"

"I found out last week. I told Claudia just before you texted us." She paused. "And I'm _really _excited about it."

But he just stood there, his face ashen with shock, and his mouth moved to say something more. Nothing came out. I stared at him, waiting for a further response, but I knew something else had caught his attention. The air suddenly changed around and became thick, a new energy swirling around us. I looked around, not sure what I was looking for but knowing something was off. When I looked back at Peter, he was staring off down the street leading to Times Square.

"Peter?" Gwen asked, and this time the both of us looked around, searching but finding nothing. When we looked back, Peter was gone. The only evidence of his being there were his shoes and clothes.

Not a second later, I received a text from Martha. _You'd better get to Times Square, something's going down._

I didn't hesitate to text back, _I'll be right there, _before I took off running, Gwen hot on my heels. Our coffees were abandoned on the streets behind us.

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**Bit of a cliffy? ;)**


	6. Times Square

**Thanks again for reading, favouriting, following and reviewing, means a lot!**

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When everything went down with Doctor Connors, who after long experiments and the desperation to claim back a limb he lost, I missed the majority of the lizard attacks just a year and a half or so before. At the time I'd been grieving for my family, which meant time off school and long months of isolation. Peter filled me in on the details, and frankly I was glad I missed it. Personally I wasn't a fan of having a giant lizard who wanted to turn everyone else into lizards in order to 'change the world'. No, I was a standard 'live the normal life' kind of girl.

So imagine my shock when I wound up in the whole mess involving a new insane, horrifyingly transformed man in none other than Times Square.

I skidded to a stop when I found Martha in the crowd. Even with a street full of frightened and curious people, I could find my sister anywhere. Her blonde hair shone like a halo against her red coat, which fit her tall frame almost like a second skin. As soon as I arrived she grasped my elbow and tugged me into her side; I could feel her shaking. Gwen to my other arm and the three of us watched the events unfold with many other bodies around us.

Out in the street, which was empty due to the barricades holding us back, a lone man in a dark hoody and pants stood. Police stood all around him pointing guns, ordering him to raise his hands. Something was wrong with him, though. He stood like he was in pain, and even from tis distance I could see he was trembling. But that isn't what I felt was wrong. The air around us felt strange. It felt… energetic. Every now and then my skin would prickle and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I could smell burning, but not the burning of a fire.

It was the burning after an electric shock.

I stared, trying to understand what was going on. On the screens of the buildings, all we could see was the man in the middle of Times Square. His face was hidden by his hood, but you couldn't miss the fluorescent blue leaking from beneath his hood. I stared harder, moving my eyes down, but the cameras cut off just above his waist.

"What's wrong with him?" I heard someone say behind me.

"His hands are glowing!" called another.

"Is he dangerous?" inquired a man in front of me, moving so that he blocked my view. The question was so stupid I couldn't help but reply.

"No, the guns are being pointed at him to shoot confetti." I snapped at him. Martha jabbed me in the ribs while Gwen lightly smacked me over the head, and the man turned to me with a look of venom. I shrugged. "Ask a stupid question then expect a stupid answer."

"You little—!"

"_Back off_." Martha snarled before the man even had time to raise his fist. The words were hissed with so much poison that the man instantly recoiled, backing into the crowd. I looked at my sister with both worry and pride. While we were incredibly different, Martha being all heart and myself being overly untrusting, I'd be lying if I said the events with Rick hadn't damaged her. If anyone so much as said a bad word to me, her back would stiffen before I would have time to shoot a comment back. She was like a cat, sweet and loving one minute but vicious and deadly the next. I was proud of her for getting a backbone, but it was disheartening to know she would never recover from our ordeal. Martha had no room left for anyone but me now, and I knew that she deserved better than that.

"Easy, you'll turn into me." I murmured softly. She looked at me with a sad expression but said nothing. I didn't have time to comment further.

"Shoot, shoot!"

"Take him down!"

"_Shoot that bastard down!_"

I couldn't determine how much time passed in the following moments. I heard the shots, I smelled the panic, and I felt the pain as people pushed and shoved with fright around us. The grip on my arms vanished; I suddenly found myself screaming for Martha and Gwen who had disappeared from my sides. I heard my name being yelled but couldn't see them, and while the pushing grew more violent followed by screams, my name drowned in the chaos.

"Stop pushing, you idiots!" I shrieked in the same second that the ground shook. I yelped when I charge of electricity went through me, like a shock you get from a shopping cart only it went all through my body. My skin sizzled, my ears rang, so when the second shock came, I and many others around me fell to the ground, rocked off our feet. The weight of a man and woman fell on me and knocked the breath out of me. We scrambled away from another like frightened rats. I stumbled to me feet, tripped over someone on the ground, and before I knew it I was toppling over a barricade.

Completely disorientated and bewildered, it took a second to understand while the police officers were screaming, "Hold your fire!"

I looked up, and I was on the screens. I was crouched, my face flushed and twisted with confusion, but that wasn't what made me fall over in surprise. On the screens the man in the hoody stood behind me, electricity shooting out of his hands and into the ground. His hood had fallen back, revealing a face of blue, electric fury. The veins in his head pulsed, his eyes screaming with white rage, and he was coming straight towards me.

I jumped to my feet and spun, holding out my hands in surrender. Both of us were crouched in defensive stances, breathing heavily in either fear or anger. His glowing eyes locked onto mine; it didn't take a genius to know he was more than willing to kill me there and then.

I was not going to die just yet. Blocking out everything around me and focussing on the mess I was in, I felt I needed to engage with him rather than fight with him. I didn't really have a choice. "I'm not going to hurt you!" I yelled.

He pointed a sparkling finger at me which shook violently. "They _shot _at me." His voice chilled me to the bone, so thick with furious, electric that he didn't sound human, either. I swallowed the fear down and stood my ground, keeping my palms up to him as he edged closer.

"I'm not gonna shoot, okay? Look, no gun!"

"They want to kill me!"

"Ignore them, they won't shoot with me here." I forced a hard smile. "If they do then fire at will, my friend."

He looked like he was going to say something, but his eyes shifted from mine an behind me.

"Claudia Thatcher, you will be the death of me." Peter's voice growled behind me. I practically sagged with relief.

"Took your time."

"_Spiderman_." The man ahead said, and if I wasn't mistaken he said the name with the same relief I felt. I looked at Peter beside me with raised eyebrows. Dressed completely as Spiderman, his white eyes appeared to be focussed on the man in front of us. More spider than human, Peter was crouched close to the ground, ready to spring at a moment's notice. His outstretched his arm in front of me and pushed me back a little, urging me to get behind him. I was more than willing to oblige.

"You know him?" the man called out to me. It sounded like an accusation.

"W-what?"

"Ignore her, Sparkles, all attention is on me." Peter said. "Claudia, get _back._"

"You're Spiderman's friend?" the man asked again, stepping closer. Sparks shot out of his fingers and he gasped raggedly, looking at his hands. Judging by his pained expression, I couldn't help but think that he wasn't able to help what was happening. "I don't know what's happening. I can't control it."

"Easy, man, it's gonna be alright." Peter said, straightening up. Doing the same as I had before he held up his hands, expressing that he meant no harm.

"Do you remember me?" the man asked. He almost sounded like a child.

I didn't miss the stiffness in Peter's spine. "Of course I remember you, you're my eyes and ears!" he paused. "What's your name again?"

_Crap_. The man growled and pointed a finger directly at me. "You know _her_ name!"

"I told you to ignore her. Give me a sec, it'll come to me—"

"It's Max."

"Max? Max right?"

"Yes."

I exhaled in relief. Max had said his name, giving time for Peter to pick up on it and make out he remembered. Right now that was the only thing keeping us both alive.

"You saved me one day, you pushed me out of the way." Max explained, begging Peter to remember with his eyes. Peter thought, pinching his hidden nose as he thought.

"Wait, you're the guy with the blueprints! You're Max from Oscorp!"

I was edging closer to the barricades, so far going unnoticed. I heard Martha and Gwen calling out to me in hushed voices, and from either side officers edged their way towards me. I wished they'd hurry up. My head hurt from being close to Max, ringing with a headache that pulled on the back of my eyes. I just wanted to get out of the ring and go home with Martha where it was safe and not so… electrifying.

I was almost there when Max stopped me with a single look. "_You._"

"Ignore me, Max." I called. "I just want to go home."

"You spend time with my friend." He began to shake with anger when he looked back at Peter. "You remembered her _name!_"

"Stay with me Max." Peter cautioned. "We can talk this out. Let's get you out of here, away from all of these people. Everything will be alright. Just let me help you, Max."

But Max wasn't listening. A bolt of blue electricity rode the ground towards me, sparking in fury. I screamed and jumped out of the way, right in the path of another bolt. "Max, stop!" I shouted; my teeth clattered with the electricity rising from the ground and into me.

A third bolt came shooting towards me. I ran to the right, away from Martha who was screaming in hysteria. My name was bellowed, and in my blind panic all I could see was a blur of electric blue, red and royal blue. My ears screamed with the paranoia of the people around me, while at the same time I heard the cackling of the sparks as they shot towards me with all the determination of a murderous agenda.

I took cover behind a toppled car. Officers around me kept yelling to hold their fire, especially now that I was hidden away and the lightning bolts had stopped. I panted, trying to regain my composure. While oh why did all of the crap happen to me?

"Max, listen to me." Peter ordered, sounding exasperated. "No one here is going to hurt you. You hear that, people? _No one shoots my friend, Max!_"

"Help me." Max begged, sounding incredibly pained. But that pain was short lived. Another crash sounded, rocking the car I took cover behind. I screamed, and suddenly I was in the middle of a fire squad. The car vanished, and the next thing I knew Peter had me in his arms and was swinging for the crowds. I had no time to even breathe as he toppled, making us land awkwardly. He pushed me into the crowd, so I had no time to acknowledge the searing pain in my right ankle. I stumbled, but Peter was already gone.

People crowded me in a protective circle, helping me rise to my feet. I couldn't put weight of my foot. Seeing that I was injured they set me back down on the floor, shooting questions at me even though I couldn't find the words to answer. Around us, the screens no longer had the face of Max on them but the face of Spiderman, who was calling out desperately for Max to listen to him. His pleas were drowned out by the chanting of "Spidey" from the crowd. I wanted to yell at them to stop, that they weren't helping, but instead I whimpered in pain and closed my eyes.

"_You betrayed me!"_

"No, Max, I didn't betray you; I'm trying to help you!"

"_You're a liar!_"

"No, Max!"

And one last wave of electricity shot through the ground. People fell and screamed, knocked completely off their feet. I heard nothing but white noise, saw the blurring of bodies, yet somehow I managed to get to my feet and move. Martha appeared out of nowhere, grasping onto my arm and rushing me through the sea of people, but we could only go as fast as my ankle would allow. I couldn't hear her words, nor feel her touch, and I was sure that it was the same for her, too.

Unable to go any further, we collapsed just outside of the crowds. People ignored us as they rushed by, and Gwen appeared just as suddenly as Martha had. She looked over my ankle, pressing gently on it with her fingers. I couldn't feel anything. I looked up, trying to understand where we were, but I was met by a world of chaos.

And then a bolt of electricity coming straight towards us.

In the same second, the sensation of hearing returned. I screamed so loudly that Martha and Gwen looked up in surprise having not seen the threat. They curled in on me, shrieking in terror, but the bolt never hit. I peeked through the clothes blocking my view and saw nothing but darkness. I took a trembling breath, and while before I could smell burning, I now smelt damp air.

We looked around. Max was on the ground, not moving, in the centre of Times Square. Nearby, Peter stood with a firefighter's hat on with a hose pipe, looking utterly ridiculous. I didn't care to see any more confirmations that that threat was gone and instead curled up into Martha's body, who held me so tightly I thought I'd break. Gwen rubbed my back soothingly, murmuring gentle words in my ear.

It was over.

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**Harry makes an appearance in the next chapter.. Curious much?;)**


	7. Curiosity

**Harry is in this one! Not gonna lie, I loved the new Harry, I thought he was so creepy and well portrayed that he's one of those characters you love but don't know why. And lets be honest, him and Peter being a pair of dorks together was adorable. **

**Chapter Seven! Let me know your thoughts!**

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"Claudia, what are you doing here?" my fellow waitress asked me the next morning as a limped through the doors. I frowned at her, confused by her question. Lilly was a sweet girl, with red hair and a tiny frame, but sometimes she was just too nice. The whole ordeal with my parents and Rick meant that my sister and I were fairly well known. Our faces went all over the news for a couple of weeks, where we were crowned the sisters of sheer will, but thankfully people forgot after a while.

Not Lilly. Lilly never forgot, which meant she treated me like I was going to shatter at any moment.

"What do you mean? I've come to work." I said, limping past her. I tried to hide it as best I could, but the pain was relentless as it shot up my leg. Martha had taken me to see the doctors last night but they just said I needed to rest for it was mildly sprained, but I wasn't one to just sit around and do nothing. Doing nothing meant a lot of thinking, and that I just couldn't bear to do.

I'd fled before Peter could catch sight of my injury. He didn't need to know, for as mild as it was he would still want to smack his head against a brick wall with guilt. Gwen had understood and went to distract him while Martha half carried, half dragged me away from the scene, fussing over me like a worried mother.

"After what happened last night you should be in bed!" Lilly exclaimed.

"Excuse me?"

"You were all over the news. That crazy maniac trying to kill you and all tends to result in a bed day the next morning." She reached out and touched my shoulder. "Go home, Claudia, we'll call someone else in."

"I'm not losing a shift over a stupid twisted ankle, thank you very much."

"Then a cappuccino will do me nicely." A voice said behind me. Lilly's eyes widened just as I turned to look, half expecting one of the snobby business men that often came in on their route to work. It wasn't. I turned to face a young man with a swept-to-the-side fringe of dark hair and intimidating blue eyes, with a smile that spelled both trouble and general teasing. He was dressed overly smart, with a black shirt and a grey thin tie, along with black trousers. The only thing that wasn't smart was his shoes, which were a pair of black sneakers with white laces. He smiled at me as I looked him up and down, recognition no doubt clear on my face. I knew who he was. He'd also been on the news lately, a son to a very respectful family and none other than the creator of Oscorp. Said man had died, so his son had returned to New York to take his place.

"M-Mister Osborn…" Lilly stuttered. I glared at her. He may have been somewhat famous, but that shouldn't mean he got the celebrity treatment. "I-I'll bring that coffee right over to you!"

"Thank you." The young man said. "And it's Harry. Mister Osborn is my father and I'm not at work."

"Of course," Lilly nodded and glided away. I rolled my eyes and stumbled after her, preparing myself to completely ignore the man behind me.

"I don't think you should be walking on that foot, Miss Thatcher."

"Thanks for the concern but I'm perfectly fine." I snapped. Then I stopped. "How'd you know my name?"

He grinned, following me further into the café. "A pretty face like that is hard to miss when it's all over the news, so your name kind of stuck in my mind."

"Ha-ha, you're funny." I said sarcastically, moving so that I could put a safe distance between myself and him using the counter. Yet as I looked at him I couldn't help but feel like I'd seen him somewhere else. There was something about his eyes that set me on edge and yet intrigued me, like there was more to him than being the spoiled heir of an important company owner.

He grinned at me over the top of the counter. "Is a guy not allowed to acknowledge a pretty girl?"

"Sure, so long as it's not a girl who's not interested."

"Now that just makes me more interested."

"Then prepare to be _very_ disappointed."

"Ouch." He placed his hand over his chest, over where his heart would be. "You know how to scorn a man."

"She knows how to scorn anyone." Lilly said behind me, bringing over Harry's coffee in a take-out cup.

"Is that so?" Harry smirked with the rise of his brow while retrieving his order.

"Yes, and you are not going to be that special exception." I said, but not without shooting a glare at Lilly. She grinned at me nonetheless, which quickly vanished when I stumbled after putting too much weight on my stupid ankle. She helped me up, hissing in my ear that I go home. As she led me to the hatch way, Harry was there, his teasing now replaced with concern but a hint of curiosity.

"I can't go home and just do nothing." I snapped without meaning to. Lilly didn't mind though; I did that a lot.

"Then I'd like another coffee." Harry said to Lilly before returning his attention to me. "If you don't want to go home then you might as well sit with me."

"And why would I do that?"

"I'd like to get to know the lady who belongs to my best pal."

I froze, staring at him. He took my surprise as an opportunity to lead me hanging, sauntering off to sit at the table near the window where Gwen had sat just the night before. Lilly looked at me and shrugged, looking as equally confused as I was. I looked at Harry again who was now focussing on the world outside, and a part of me just wanted to leave. Yet he intrigued me, just the way Peter had all that time ago. I didn't like him, not one bit, but I was a sucker for curiosity. With annoyance at both him and myself, I squared my shoulders and limped my way over to him, slipping awkwardly into the booth opposite him.

"What did you mean by that?" I demanded. He looked at me and smiled.

"Peter Parker is a close friend of mine. He told me about you the other day, and since you're here I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet you."

"So you just flirted with your best friend's ex-girlfriend."

"_Ex_ being the operative word, yes." He smiled over the top of his cup. "I wanted to see your reaction; he said you're a terribly hard woman to please."

"He got that right." I slumped back into the seat, ignoring the throbbing in my ankle. "Was there something else you wanted or did you just want to feed your curiosity?"

"I don't know. Is there something _you_ wanted? You're the one who sat here."

"You offered."

"Again, to see what you would do. Is your _own_ curiosity eating away at you, Miss Thatcher?"

Well, this was one sly bastard. "You got me."

Lilly placed down my own coffee which Harry had ordered, who paid her an absurd amount of money as well as telling her to keep the change. All the while he kept his eyes on me while I opened two packets of sugar provided on the table, tipping them into the steaming liquid.

"And the lady stays." Harry noted, smiling in what must have been triumph.

"Not for long." I warned, taking a sip. It burned my tongue but it didn't shift my eyes from his. "I'm just killing time."

"Killing time because you don't want to go home, or killing time so you can nosey in the personal life of your ex-boyfriend?"

"Bit of both."

"Ah." He pointed at me with a smile that tickled my skin with both nervousness and intrigue. "I _like_ you." he said. "It's not often I find someone so brutally honest; it's interesting to say the least."

"It's about to get more interesting." I said before he could continue. "Why has Peter never told me about you? Why are you here now? Why do you care about knowing me?"

"So many questions and such little time." He, mimicking the exact move I had done just moments before, slumped back into his seat. He kept his hands splayed on the table's surface on either side of his cup, yet there was something so lazy about the way he sat that it reminded me of Peter when I'd first met him. Right then I saw the arrogant boy in high school, the annoyingly cocky boy who followed me around with the desperate hopes of winning me over.

But while I saw that, I also saw something darker, a twisted side that was buried just deep enough that most people could miss it. It was something I was very familiar with. We all had pasts that awakened our inner demons; I had the murder of my parents, Peter had the abandonment of his parents and the murder of his uncle, and Gwen had the death of her father. Harry had his own, but there was something much darker. The three of us could just about control our demons, but something told me that it wouldn't take much to make this young man in front of me snap.

Now _that _was interesting.

"You can either tell me or we sit in awkward silence staring at each other." I said.

"You drive a hard bargain." he replied. "But I'll take it. Long story short, Peter and I were best friends when we were kids. We did everything together, like brothers. But then my father sent me away to boarding school. Eventually I went my way and he went his, so we lost contact. That is until my father died just a few weeks ago."

I said nothing to that. The way he said it told me that he wasn't looking for condolences, but instead was simply stating a fact.

"His death means that Oscorp is rightfully mine. So here I am," he leaned forward and intertwined his hands under his chin. "As for you, I'm just a nosey bastard, especially after catching the news last night. You are one brave girl, Claudia Thatcher, and not just for the Times Square incident."

"You know more?"

"Your name floated around here and there during my time away." He smiled. "It sucks about your parents, anyhow, that Hammond guy got what he deserved."

I had nothing to say to that, so I focussed my attention of my coffee instead. I felt Harry's smile like the heat of a blazing fire, but not in a good thing. He was that kind of bad boy that most girls got off on, yet I felt nothing but intimidation. It was the bad that had depth, a history. It was the bad that, as much as you wanted to run away, as much as you wanted to fear it, just felt _good. _It was the undercurrent of bad that I fed off even now, the rebelliousness that sometimes crept its way to the surface in need of air. I may have changed my ways, but nobody would ever rid me of my demons. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good to know that I wasn't the only one who had an alluring bad streak.

"Life messed you up, didn't it?"

"It always does, doesn't it? We're all messed up in our own way."

"True, but you're something else." He grinned behind his hands. "As I said, it's incredibly interesting."

"Same goes to you." I muttered.

"Why?"

It was my turn to smile. "I know my own kind when I see one. There's more to your story than your telling me, but my curiosity will have to go hungry." I rose, looking down at him. "Goodbye, Mr Osborn."

"It's Harry."

"Saying that implies I'm your friend." I smirked. "And I am _not _your friend."

At that he actually laughed, like I had said some kind of joke I didn't understand. He didn't stop me as I limped towards the counter to grab a lid for my cup and waving off any concern Lilly had for me. I turned to give one final look at Harry, but when I faced the booth, it sat empty. I caught sight of the door just as it closed, followed by a glimpse of Harry's back disappearing into the rushing morning crowd.

* * *

Martha was at home waiting for me when I got in. She was sat in the living room with a plate of toast on her lap, the TV on but not being watched. I awkwardly walked into the room and she glared at me, her eyes fierce.

"You idiot, what'd you go to work for? The doctor said you needed rest!"

"I couldn't stay in bed and do nothing, Martha, I had to get out." I sighed, dropping into the seat beside her. "They sent me home, anyway, Lilly insisted."

"I should think so!" She took my hand and squeezed. "For once in your life just relax."

"I can't relax. I don't _do _relaxing."

"It's about time you learned to. You work yourself up too much. One of these days you'll make yourself ill."

"You sound like mom."

"It's something she'd say and you know it."

I angled myself to that I was completely facing her. I loved my sister, truly I did, but sometimes I felt like she was overcrowding me with concern that didn't need to be there. She was only looking out for me, and rightfully so, but every now and then I needed a break from her fussing. "Maybe you should relax. I'm almost eighteen, Martha, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

"I worry sometimes." she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"You don't need to." I wound my arm around her shoulders and placed our foreheads together, smiling as warmly as I could manage. "I'm not going anywhere, Martha, I'm right here and I'm safe. Last night was just a slip up. Maybe it's about time you got out and starting living your own life again instead of staying cooked up in here or at work worrying all the time."

"Easier said than done." She sighed with what sounded like exhaustion and kissed my forehead. "I'm just terrified of losing you again."

"That's not going to happen." I pulled back and pinched a slice of her toast, taking a bite. "If I can survive getting beaten to a pulp _twice, _then I'm sure I can cope with a sprained ankle for a few days."

She smiled but it looked pained, no doubt remembering the memories of both incidents where I'd been beaten close to death. I didn't want to think about it and shook it off. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am, when am I ever wrong?"

"Now you sound like dad."

We laughed and sat watching whatever crap was on the TV, but my mind wondered back to this morning. I had a strong feeling that Harry and I were going to cross paths a lot more from now on.

* * *

**Just a heads up, there will be no Claudia/Harry unless there is a huge demand for it, which I believe is highly doubtful.**

**Thanks for reading, always appreciated! :D**


	8. One of the Same

**Chapter Eight! **

**Well, thanks for all of the reviews guys, means a lot! And I've noticed that there are very conflicted views about the idea of Claudia/Harry. However, as I previously said, I never intended to have them be together. This is because I think they are too similar, and if there was any attraction between them there would be nothing emotional about it. _However, _for those of you who like the idea of them, I'm not saying there's nothing there at all. This chapter kind of goes into what I think their relationship would show if Claudia were actually in the films/comics, because as one of you said Harry is a very complex character just like Claudia. If anything were to happen between them, it wouldn't be romantic (I dont think Harry is capable of being romantic, especially not Dane Dehaan's version). They will have a connection, though, I can promise you that. **

**Anywho I'll let you read on, and thank you all for the support!**

* * *

Harry Osborn replayed the footage of the Times Square attack. He was in the office that was once his father's but now his own, sat at the desk the man who had abandoned him used to own. The glass felt cold beneath his hands, cold like a corpse. Harry smiled thinly at the thought; a corpse like his father, a corpse like he was soon to become.

As a child Harry used to be fearless towards the idea of death. Like any kid he used to think he was invincible, an exception to nature's cruel ways. He remembered the games him and Peter Parker used to play before he was sent away. Both of them had pretended that it was just them against the rest of the world, running through the neighbourhoods or riding their bikes in the back alleys without a care in the world. Children didn't need to fear death, but that didn't stop them from living any harder.

But now Harry had ever felt more afraid. He'd had a lucky escape in not remembering his mother or her death when he was a baby, but to see his father like that shook his world out of focus. While before he had been the rich son of one of the most powerful men in New York, now he was a small man walking the short road to his grave. He didn't want to die. He had barely lived.

But as he watched Claudia Thatcher on the little TV in _his _office, he felt like him and her were one of the same. He was an orphan, she was an orphan, both betrayed by life itself. Sure Peter was also the same, but he was just too _positive _about it all. He hid away from it in the view of others and pretended that everything was okay, which only made things worse. Harry had tried it, and keeping that kind of thing to himself resulted in him screaming at his roommate in boarding school when he was just thirteen. It was better to let the damaged side show; people wouldn't get hurt if they knew to keep away. Claudia went about things the right way, the _bad _way that made things _good. _She knew how to survive.

The test he had presented to Claudia that morning had been successful. In the café she had played herself off as a tough, take-no-crap city girl with a shadowed background, but here on the TV she was nothing more than a terrified human who just wanted to live. The way she crouched screamed to the world that she wanted to fight, but the terror in her face proved that her human side was stronger than her ego. But she had fought, she'd fought with words. She tried to reason with the creature, tried to explain that she wasn't going to harm him, and what did she get in return? A bolt of electricity to send her running like the frightened mouse she tried to bury deep.

How many times had Harry pleaded with his father to not send him away when he was eleven? How many times did he beg his father to let him come home? How many times did he fight for his father's love, only to be left in the gutter to rot in a never ending, cruel world?

And he was about to face a bigger battle. He could practically feel the illness in his veins, poisoning him slowly, painfully, just waiting to show it's self the way his father had promised. It trembled in his hand, begging for release beneath his skin. He would fight it. He would fight pretty damn hard, but unless he found a cure he knew he would die trying. His demons would eaten him up from the inside alongside his illness, and a part of him wondered how long it would take for Claudia's demons to kill her.

It fascinated him how a girl like that got wrapped up with a guy like Peter, who was so _normal _and unaware of everything that it was almost pitiful. Harry thought that Peter had created a mental block towards the bad, and clung on to hope like he said during their first meet up after ten years. Hope sounded all good, it was something to believe in, but Harry found that it was a distraction from something bigger. Hope was, like him, a lost cause now.

So how did a purposely blind hopeful like Peter end up with a fellow lost cause like Claudia? Something didn't add up. Then again, with a city overrun with spider people and creatures made of electricity, did anything add up in a crazy world such as this?

Harry lifted the little cube that Norman Osborn had claimed to be his life's work and stared. Harry wanted answers, and answers he was going to get.

* * *

Standing in what remained of Times Square, I felt nothing.

I thought I'd have some kind of reaction to the location I had almost died in, something like numbing terror or self-loathing for being afraid. But I didn't feel anything at all; I didn't even get visions of my experience that had only happened two days before. Most of the damaged had been cleared, but none of the once advertising screens were up and working. Work started immediately after the danger was over, so what I was met with now was a lot of scaffolding and the loud sounds of construction work.

"You alright, darling?" a man behind me asked, dressed in a fluorescent yellow jacket and pants, as well as a safety helmet; one of the builders, apparently.

"Yeah," I said simply, turning my attention back to the scene in front of me. It must have been about one in the morning, yet there were still bystanders looking at the devastation with the same awe as me. Some pointed as they repeated the story of that evening, while others simply stared solemnly. A few stared directly at me, despite the fact that I was in a dark hoody and jeans. I knew why they were staring. As Lilly had said, Martha and I were famous once more around here.

As if to confirm this thought, the man next to me said, "You're one of the Thatcher sisters, right?"

"What of it?" I demanded none too gently.

He didn't even blink, instead offering a lazy shrug. "For someone who's gone through as much hell as you, you look kinda… normal."

I laughed thinly. "Normal isn't how I would describe myself."

"How would you describe yourself?"

"Screwed up." I looked at him blankly. "I may _look _normal, but if you were in my head I think you'd be met by Hell."

He stared at me for a long moment, old, weary eyes staring deeply into the ocean filled with pain and betrayal. He didn't let on any emotions, not even unease, but he didn't play himself up to be unafraid of me, either.

"I see it." he said quietly. "I see Hell in your eyes."

"How so?"

"They're cold, cold like the abyss, cold like Hell." He said this in a tone that denied any trace of emotion, but at the same time I didn't feel anything in return, only acceptance to his words. After all, when it was just one in the morning, everything made sense no matter how absurd.

"I thought Hell would be hot." I said.

"Many say it's cold." he replied with a shrug. "Do you believe in Hell?"

"Should I?"

"Maybe." he smiled thinly. "You're already living it, anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter."

"No," I murmured, looking back at Times Square once again. "I guess it doesn't."

The stranger nodded to himself and then let me be, sauntering off to get back to work. I placed my hands in the front pocket of my hoody, twining my fingers together for warmth. Then I pinched my wrist until it bled, just so I could feel something instead of nothing at all.

* * *

The next day, I woke feeling like myself again, or at least the self I had made myself be. Martha hadn't noticed me sneaking out in the night, but I wasn't able to sleep and needed air. At the time I didn't know how I'd ended up there, only that my legs had carried me without my permission. This morning it felt like a very distant dream, one that I hoped to forget.

"How are you this morning?" Martha asked me as she handed me a plate of two pancakes sprinkled in chocolate sauce. Her hair was up in a messy golden bun and her eyes were tired. Judging by the chosen outfit of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt with a picture of a cupcake on it, I could only guess that today was her day off. I planned to spend the morning with her before I went to my afternoon college classes, so I too was dressed in nothing more than a pair of bed shorts and one of Peter's old shirts which I found I couldn't part with just yet; it still smelled of him, like fresh air with a hint of his cologne

"I'm okay," I said, smiling. "How's you, sis?"

She yawned, making her eyes twinkle with moisture. "Not too bad, couldn't sleep though."

"No?" I said, for a second thinking that maybe she _had _heard me sneak out and stayed up all night worrying. That couldn't be true though; she'd of had my head by now if she knew.

She smiled tiredly. "No. Bad dreams."

"Ah." I nodded, completely understanding. "Of the other night?"

She frowned to herself and shook her head. "No, not that. They were about you, but you weren't entirely with it. You were like a zombie almost, a body without a mind if you know what I mean. And you looked so… hopeless and lost; alone. I tried calling out to you but you couldn't hear me and then you just… _vanished._" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've never dreamt anything like it."

I frowned now, pausing mid-chew before swallowing heavily. "Have you thought about seeing a doctor, maybe get some sleeping pills? Or even a—and I hate myself for saying this— therapist?"

She looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. "You think I need one?"

"I think it _could_ help you." I reasoned quickly. "You went through a lot, Martha, you couldn't hurt to get it off your chest to someone who can never say anything to anyone else."

Her eyes descended on me and darkened just a little, enough to make me uneasy. "What about you?"

I stared her straight in the eyes, carefully saying, "We all have different ways of dealing with things. Therapy wouldn't help me even if I wanted it to, and you know it."

"You're not as strong as you think, you know."

"And neither are you." I placed down my breakfast and got up from the sofa, walking over to her until we were almost toe to toe. My sister was a head or so taller than me, yet somehow I always felt I was the one in control when it came to just us. I guess darkness always overrides light, anyway. "Don't do what I did. Don't lock yourself away and suffer on your own. It almost killed me and could very well kill you, too. Talk to someone, even me if you have to, I just might not be able to offer any advice." I took her hand in mine and squeezed. "But sometimes it's better for someone to just listen."

A few heavy moments passed, just the two of us absorbing the weight of my own words. When she said nothing, I whispered, "Sometimes wounds never heal, we just have to learn to cope with them."

"I shouldn't have to worry about myself when I need to worry about _you._" she whispered back, leaning down to press her forehead to mine and close her eyes.

I smiled despite her words. "I'm fine." I said. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm always fine in the end." I pulled back and forced a beaming smile on my face. "Now let's sit down and watch some crappy TV, yeah?"

She smiled sadly back and nodded.

Later, on my walk to college, I was confronted by Gwen. She practically came running at me from behind, grabbing my waist to pull me into one of her quick, rushed embraces. I froze, stunned by her sudden appearance, and a few people bumped into us because of our hasty stop.

"Hey, you alright?" I asked as I pulled away, collecting myself. Her eyes looked worried, riddled with questions that I couldn't fathom. I took her wrist and squeezed as she struggled to get any words out of her mouth.

"The other night, with that man, that Max, I know him, I _know _him." She said far too quickly, gripping my arm until it hurt. It was then that I saw not only concern in her eyes but also excitement.

"Excuse me?" I demanded, my own eyes widening. "You know him? _How?_"

"Once at Oscorp, he used to work there. His full name was Max Dillon. We spoke in the elevator for five minutes, and from what I could gather he had this _weird _infatuation with Spiderman." Her eyes hardened. "He said they were best friends or something."

That that's just weird. "So what do you wanna do?"

"I want to know what the hell happened to him."

"Yeah, I think the whole city wants to know that, Blondie."

"No!" she vigorously shook her head. "Oscorp, it's got to have something to do with Oscorp! And I want to find out what." She took my hand and began directing me away from the direction of college, and I struggled to keep up.

"Oh, that's it, drag me away from my education and future and only way to secure a stable life!" I said, yet I didn't fight against her hold. She looked at me with bright eyes as we weaved through the crowd.

"Do you want to go to college, or do you want to actually find out what's going on?"

"Will it be dangerous?"

"Maybe."

"Then I'm in."

* * *

**Let me know your thoughts!**


	9. Oscorp

**From now on the timeline will shift to last a little longer, spanning over a few more days than the film (hope you guys don't mind). Things are obviously going to be shaken up from now on to become a little more original from the film, but will still keep the same feel. And I promise that's you'll get Peter in the next chapter as well as Harry, but for now I give you Chapter Nine!**

**Thank you for reading guys, love you all! :)**

* * *

I remember when I was seven, walking with my dad in the heart of the city. We used to live on the outskirts in a large house that was once a farm house many years before. Dad worked in the city as a surgeon at one of the hospitals, but sometimes he would work long shifts that lasted days at a time. Because of this he often stayed in hotels, so sometimes mom, Martha and me would tag along so we could spend more time with him. Lucky for us mom could travel with her work since she was a journalist, so when we went during the school breaks it meant we could be very flexible. On occasion, dad would take me to a sweet shop that was no longer open, which sold everything and anything any kid could have wanted.

But to get there meant that we had to pass Oscorp.

At that age, the huge building scared me. There was something about it that just didn't quite fit with the rest of New York. I liked to think of it as the bully that thought it was better than everyone else, and imagined that it sneered at any civilian who crossed its path while glowering at its surrounding skyscrapers. Basically I thought it was an ass.

One day dad caught me staring at it and squeezed my hand which was captured protectively in his. "Don't ever go there, baby girl," he'd told me. "It's a dangerous place."

"Why?"

"It's said that bad things happen in there, sweetie." He'd stopped and crouched in front of me despite the many people around us, like it was just us in the whole of New York. That's how dad saw me as well as my mother and sister, the only people he needed to care about, his whole world. "And I don't want bad things to happen to you."

"I can be brave." I'd said with a little grin. He grinned, too.

"I know you can, but sometimes being brave isn't the right thing to be." He poked my nose. "Sometimes being sensible is better."

"Okay."

He'd bent forward to kiss my forehead while smoothing my hair, and when he kept walking he never said another word about it. Oscorp was forgotten for a long, long time, presumably never going to be a problem in my life, so why the hell was I dashing straight into the heart of something believed to be dangerous? It was because being sensible was boring, being brave was overrated, and being reckless was just too enticing to resist. It didn't stop the guilt from poking its way through my skin, though, yet I was stupid enough to ignore it.

* * *

Gwen dragged me though the main doors of Oscorp without any hesitation. It didn't take a single second to know I was out of place; dressed in just a pair of sneakers, skinny jeans, t-shirt and zip-up grey hoody, it didn't take a genius to know I didn't belong. Gwen on the other hand was dressed completely for work, like the young business woman she was and wasn't at the same time. She was professional and fiercely intelligent, yet she had the beautiful innocence of a teenage girl going about an ordinary life… or as ordinary as it got when one of your best friends was Spiderman.

It didn't take long for people to look at me in question as we rushed through 'security', which consisted of swiping an ID card. The barriers moved with access, and being so small and slim I was able to slip through at the same time as Gwen without it catching me out. I didn't feel frightened at the idea that what I was doing was probably illegal, but more exhilarated. There was something about being reckless that made anyone feel strong. Even Gwen, the most sensible, clever, overlooked girl I knew still got a kick out of doing something stupid. Besides, after everything that had happened, I was in dire need of some kind of distraction.

I couldn't get a clear visual on anything around me, only that it felt like it was made of glass. It was one of those buildings where if a single punch was thrown to one wall then the whole thing would collapse in on itself. It had the sophistication of any company going ahead of its time, yet it had the delicacy of one that was still finding its place in the world. Oscorp was a place to be feared as far as citizens of New York were concerned, but to me it felt like fear was its own way of getting to the top. Fear made people do stupid things, (I should know), but it also made them do things without them even realising. Oscorp would grow and thrive, and its delicate walls of glass would soon transform into lethal shards, and only fear would get it to that point.

Fear made people cooperate, and cooperation meant power.

Gwen yanked me into one of the elevators, speaking the number to the robotic woman who's voice was beginning to get on my nerves.

"You people are so lazy, what's wrong with buttons?" I demanded, watching the ground floor thriving with people in white coats blur as we rose up.

Gwen chewed her lip to keep from smiling. "Technology is the future, you know this."

"Yeah, but annoying, robotic women aren't exactly up my alley." I gave her a false stern look. "Call me old fashioned, but I would choose buttons any day. Robots aren't to be trusted."

"How old are you again? This isn't a sci-fi movie where robots take over the world, you know."

"You won't be saying that when you're a robot's servant."

"You're impossible."

"I'm _sensible, _buttons make all the difference."

She rolled her eyes and took my hand when the doors opened. The lift had moved so swiftly that I hadn't even felt it stop, so being dragged out again made me blink in confusion. Technology was indeed the future, but I wasn't fast enough to keep up with it. Gwen on the other hand was so in touch with it that it made my head hurt; swipe a card here, insert a code there, speak a number and voila, we were at her desk.

She sank into her spinning chair, rolling it up until she was trapped between the desk and the back of the chair. I perched on the arm, staring at the screen of a computer that flashed Oscorp at me. She inserted a username and password, her fingers gliding over the keyboard while her eyes never left the screen. There was something robotic about the way she did it, like it was clockwork inside her head that ticked with each thought, moving her forward. It was a side I had seen many times but not like this. This was all professional, workaholic Gwen with one agenda, and the answer was hidden in the files of the very company she worked for. I looked around as she searched for whatever it was she was looking for, and everyone else had their heads down to their screens, looking frighteningly mechanic. Some looked to be barely in high school.

"Max Dillon was his name," Gwen said, pulling back my attention. "He seemed so… lonely. It was a few days before the attack in Times Square, and it was his birthday; he had a card that I think he wrote to himself. He spoke about Pete like he was his best friend, and it had only been a few minutes; Peter never even said anything about a Max. Then at Time's Square, when he said his name, it got me thinking…"

She pulled up a search page for the employees and typed in DILLON, MAX, hitting enter with determination. Images fleeted across the screen with many faces of the people who worked here, from men to women between the ages of sixteen to sixty. It hurt my eyes to see so many faces flit by, and soon enough they all began to blur into one and look the same. Gwen felt rigid in the seat, eagerly awaiting the result, but the faces just kept on coming and going.

Nothing was found, and even I frowned. "Should that be right?"

Gwen chewed her lip. "Nope."

"Are you sure it's the same guy you're talking about?"

"Has to be. Even if it wasn't, why's he wiped off the system?"

"Maybe he was fired or he left?"

"No, it would take a few weeks to get him off the system if that had happened…" she pressed enter again, but what happened made my stomach twist. SEARCH BLOCKED.

"The hell?" I whispered, leaning closer. "I don't think that's the computer talking, Blondie."

"Me neither." she agreed. "That's Oscorp security talking."

"Maybe they don't like employees searching other employees."

"Or maybe they actually have something to hide."

At the same time we looked up, and sure enough two men in dark suits were pointing in our direction. "Ah, hell," I whispered. "Time to go."

"Yep."

She pushed the chair back just as I slid off, and together we slipped away from her desk as smoothly as we had arrived. Due to my very normal mind, I had to lie on Gwen to get us out of the situation. It was the only thing about myself, Gwen and Peter that wasn't right; they were the insanely clever nerds while I was just plain little me with a hot temper. Sometimes it was annoying, like I was useless and simple, yet somehow right now I was glad to have Gwen to guide me through this insanely intimidating building that smelt like a hospital.

"Are they following us?" Gwen hissed. I looked over my shoulder. The two men were weaving through staff members and calling out to us.

"Yes." I said with a heavy swallow. "If I get arrested I demand that you bail me out."

"You won't get arrested."

"No? Will the robots get me first?"

"My _god._"

We darted around a corner, both of us grinning despite the situation. Fleeting down the stairs, I heard the men getting closer and calling out Gwen's surname, and while they sounded polite I didn't miss the venomous warning in their tones.

We came to a line of elevators to which many people were waiting for. I looked back, catching the men almost jogging as they reached the top of the stairs. Heart hammering I looked at Gwen, who was now looking a little bit panicked. I swallowed, taking her hand and squeezing her fingers.

"You take the elevator." I said quickly, guiding her towards them.

"What about you?" she almost snapped. "I can't _leave _you here!"

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to, Gwen?" I said with a mischievous grin, gently pushing her into the small crowd.

"You're not invincible."

"No, but I'm fast." I said, backing away.

"_Claudia!_" she hissed as the elevator opened. People moved against her, inadvertently pushing her into the elevator. Behind me I heard one of the security men yell at me, demanding that I stop where I was.

To hell with that.

Gwen practically shrieked when I bolted, taking the corridor that I prayed led to some stairs. I wasn't risking having Gwen caught out, yet if I was caught I was hardly of any significance. What I was doing was illegal, but because I wasn't an employee and was unaware of what went of here, they would probably just ban me from ever stepping for here again. I wanted to avoid getting caught if I could help it; if I was wrong, I didn't want to find out what they would do to me. They'd made one of their employees disappear, and I didn't want to know what they would do to a civilian.

I sprinted down the corridor so fast that people had to jump out of my way, and the people that didn't move in time were knocked into the wall and thrown to the ground. I ran as fast as my legs allowed, pretending that this was just a race against Peter in New York, yet the mere thought of it made my heart ache. I hadn't seen him since Max attacked me, partly because I was avoiding him and partly because I'd been busy, so now wasn't the time. I looked over my shoulder, saw that the men were giving chase, and it was all the motivation I needed.

Darting around a corner, I was met by two flights of stairs, one going up and one going down. Obviously I went for the ones that went down, almost sending myself flying as I jumped the last six. I landed in a crouch before pushing myself forward, which made my muscles protest painfully. I didn't make it any more than ten steps before someone reached out from a corridor to my left, yanking me out of the way. A hand was tight and cold on my elbow, and a strange scent of men's cologne and something bitter made my nostrils flare. In a blur my captor swung me behind them, keeping an arm out to keep me from bolting around them. Dressed in a tight suit with dark hair and a single shaking hand at his side, Harry Osborn was the man in front of me.

The two men chasing me swung, reaching out as if ready to capture me. they froze dead on the spot when they saw who it was in front of me, wiping their expressions of annoyance to professional blankness.

"Mr Osborn." One said with a curt, respectful nod.

"Gentlemen." Harry said back with a smile that had an unnerving edge, his eyes flashing. "Is there a problem?"

"Sir, this girl shouldn't be here—"

"Miss Thatcher is with me." Harry interrupted rudely, yet he smiled.

"But… _sir—" _The man glared furiously while his partner kept his eyes on his feet. I glared back with equal malice.

"I _said _she's with _me._" Harry said lowly, dipping his head as his eyes darkened in warning. He stepped back, urging me to move, which I both did and didn't want to do. In that moment, though, I had very little choice in the matter. "I suggest you be on your way."

A beat passed. "Yes, sir." the first man said with a final glare in my direction before swiftly storming away, his partner like a puppy at his heels.

I stared in astonishment, having a flashback to when Peter had protected me in high school after a fight, but there was something darker about this time around. Peter approached his fights with reason, while Harry struck me as the kind of guy to be lethal if he wasn't obeyed.

Harry turned around but said nothing. Instead he snatched my elbow and dragged me after him, and I suddenly felt like a scolded child. His grip almost hurt, but it was a grip that was real and urgent. I followed in silence, knowing that there was little else I could do.

"You're reckless." he said as he pulled me into an elevator, speaking a high number to the robotic woman. To my dismay, the elevator rose up rather than descended.

"I know." I said, staring at him with wide eyes. He stared back, hard, his eyes bluer than the sky on a clear, summer's day.

"Why _are _you here?" he asked after a moment.

"I felt like being stupid."

"You succeeded."

"Oh, goody." I pulled my eyes away just as he broke out in a grin, yet somehow it looked pained. He didn't say anything else but instead leaned against the corner of the elevator, looking lazy and sophisticated at the same time. He didn't look at me for the rest of the time we were in there, instead getting himself deep in thought. I watched him carefully, half expecting him to demand why I was here or scream at me for a reason I couldn't understand. Something in his eyes was dangerous and excited, almost twisted, which set me on edge and yet kept me interested. He was darker than before, somehow, like a drawing gone over in another layer of shading.

The doors opened, and without a single word he walked out. With a second's hesitation I followed, just as the robotic woman wished us a good day.

* * *

**You'll have Peter, Harry and Claudia all in the same room in the next chapter... Stay tuned!**


	10. Together

**Chapter Ten guys! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, makes my day :)**

**In the film I wished that Peter and Harry had more screen time as friends, particularly before Harry went a little nuts, so I thought I'd do something similar here :) Hope you like it!**

* * *

Harry Osborn's office was something else. With a desk made of glass, the floor made of black and white marble, and the far wall nothing but a wall of glass looking over the city, I couldn't help but let the breath fall out of me like it was my first time breathing. It was so open, the air cool and fresh in my lungs, so I couldn't even help being trapped in a state of awe. Harry seemed to relish in this, because as he turned to face me while bracing his hands on the desk behind him, he had the cockiest of smiles on his face that was infuriating. I wiped my expression to something of a blank nature and graced my way around his desk, aiming for the grand leather chair behind it. Harry's eyes never left me.

"I've seen better." Was all I said. He smirked.

"Oh, really?" he said in a mocking tone, cocking his head. I plopped myself lazily into his chair and spun it around a few times, lounging in it like I wasn't in the chair that belonged to the boss of Oscorp. If it annoyed him he didn't show it; if anything he only looked curiously amused.

"Yep." I said chirpily, flashing an all too innocent grin. He smiled and moved around the desk like a predator, but I was not going to be the prey. I slouched even deeper into his chair, watching his carefully controlled movements. I stared at his hand on the desk as his fingers glided over the smooth surface, leaving a moist, glimmering texture of sweat in his wake. I could hear his steady breathing as he stalked closer, and if not for his sweaty hands I would have believed he was completely fine.

"And where is this superior office you claim to have seen?" he inquired.

I thought for a moment. It was the office my father had been in. I remember mom taking me once when she was dropping something off, and while it was an office to speak to patients privately, it was grand nonetheless. There had been a grand oak desk polished until I could see my own reflection, and the walls had been painted cream to compliment the wooden floor. His desk had been messy, full of patient files, and the smell was both of medicine and the sweat of nervous patients, but to a seven year old it had been grand. While Harry's office was pristine and cold, my father's had been warm and inviting—normal.

I sank a final, defiant inch into his chair. "My dad's."

"Oh?" he stopped smiling and frowned. "He was a surgeon, right?"

"Right." I smiled darkly. "Nothing gets past you, does it, Mr Osborn?"

He visibly flinched. "I told you to call me Harry."

"And I told you we weren't friends."

We levelled our gazes, challenging one another, waiting for the other to make a move. Having two predators in the same room was dangerous, the panther and the lion just waiting to leap. But there was also something comforting about it. Between my sister, Peter and Gwen, I was the odd one out, the black sheep. Granted Martha wasn't far behind at the rate she was going, what with snapping at strangers and screaming in the night, but it was take a lot to push her to my level. Harry Osborn seemed to be the only one that was already there.

"And what would it take to make us friends, Miss Thatcher?" he asked, now on my side of the desk and leaning casually against it.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "I was always told not to be friends with men like you."

"Men like me?"

"Pretentious, arrogant, ass-hat men."

"So what does that make you?" he countered, not missing a beat. He was full on smiling now, pivoting his body so that he completely faced me. With both hands he leaned forward and clutched the arms of the chair, leaning down so that he could invade my privacy. I felt the primary instinct to counter him and leaned up, straightening my back and squaring my shoulders in defiance. If he thought he could intimidate me like that, he was wrong.

"The same as you." I answered him. "The only difference is people can choose to like me or dislike me, whereas with you they have no choice but to like you."

"But not you." Harry said with a glint in his eyes, which struck me as something like respect. "You've made up your mind about me."

"To be fair, I don't like many people."

"And yet here you are, in my office, in my chair, seemingly here to stay."

"I'm simply gracing you with my presence as a thank you for getting me out of a sticky situation." I smiled sweetly.

"And...?" he pressed, cocking an eyebrow.

"And because you're interesting."

"There it is." He smiled approvingly and moved completely away, stalking around his office in a bored manner. As he did I relaxed back into the chair, inhaling the leathery smell while the icy air of the room prickled at my skin. He looked ready to say something more when a young woman walked into the room clutching files to her chest. She looked no older than Harry himself, yet there was something about her that made me straighten up in my seat. Her eyes sliced into mine with harsh clarity, memorising me to her memory. With dark hair and bangs that framed her pretty face, she looked normal, but I was soon learning that anyone associated with Oscorp was far from normal.

"Felicia?" Harry asked, drawing the girl's attention to him rather than me. She tensed like a cat.

"Uh… sorry, sir. There's a young man asking to see you; Peter Parker, I believe? I didn't realize you already had company." She spun as if to run from the room, and in the second it took Harry to call her back and regain her attention, I was on my feet and ready to run for the door. I wasn't ready to face Peter yet, especially not with his friend in the room!

"Send him in, I've been wanting to see him." Harry said dismissively, flopping into the now abandoned chair behind his desk.

"Shall I escort this lady out?" Felicia said, gesturing a little too quickly and dismissively to me. I glared at her.

"No, no, she's to stay here for a while." Harry said behind me, and I suddenly felt like I was an assistant to him just like Felicia, which only infuriated me. I shrank back as Felicia shot me one more look before leaving, and I came up against the glass wall overlooking New York. I dropped to the floor like a child taking time out, but I didn't care.

Harry looked down at me, spinning in the chair like the cheesy scene of a villain in a movie; the only thing he was missing was the white cat. "You've been avoiding him." he stated. "So you really are a teenager equipped with drama; I'm almost disappointed."

"Disappointed?"

"I thought you were like me; I thought you were the uncomplicated kind."

"Oh, honey, I am beyond complicated."

"Now that is a shame." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, sinking into his chair. "I could learn to accept it, I suppose."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Claudia?" Peter said, interrupting us.

I felt my eyes widen as I stared at Harry, who chuckled lowly and said, "It's about to get better." He spun the chair around and rose to his feet, myself following suit.

"Hey, Pete." I murmured. He looked the same as ever, with his bronze head of messy hair, a pair of liquid brown eyes that reminded me of chocolate, and an awkward but lazy frame that reminded me of while I loved him. And I did love him, even after what he had put me through. I loved everything about him, from his dorky nature to the true power beneath his skin; I loved him because he was the only one who could ruin me in a ridiculously good way.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, moving into the room. Harry was no longer in my frame of mind, just a shadow in the background. Yes, I'd been avoiding Peter for a few days now, but it was now that I realised just how much I missed him, how much I needed him. Lately I had felt lost and alone, even with Gwen and Martha around. He was the lifeline I needed, and it was dangerous. Peter Parker was perfect, but his world, his life, and his hold on me were lethal.

"She got into a spot of trouble." Harry said, moving so that he was a part of my reality once more, shattering the dream like rain on snow. He turned to me and flashed a round of gleaming white teeth. "You're welcome, by the way."

"You two know each other?" Peter asked, looked as confused as a baby who'd had their toy taken from them, looking between us like we were the culprits. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.

"Not really, we met once before at my work." I said. "And we kind of just… bumped into one another today."

Peter frowned deeply as he moved towards me. He had a backpack over his shoulder, which now looked like it weighed a tonne on his slacked shoulder. His skateboard was balanced on top, trapped between his bag and back. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking. Maybe he thought little of me for avoiding him the way I did, or maybe he was confused to see me in such an environment, or perhaps it hurt to even look at me. Maybe it was all of that. I just wanted to run into his arms and tell him I was sorry, but at the same time I wanted to run away because it was him who made us like this in the first place. I wanted to kiss his and hit him, I wanted to whisper to him and scream at him, I wanted to love him and hate him.

He raised his hand at if to touch my cheek but then thought better of it, dropping it. I didn't miss it form into a fist before he stuffed it into his pocket. "You look good," he said, but the pain in his eyes was evident.

Harry cleared his throat before I could reply. When I looked over I was surprised; he didn't look smug or amused, or even mocking, only sad. He watched us with such sad respect that I inwardly recoiled. He really was me. He really did have the same framework, hard on the outside and soft on the inside. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't unnerving. However, whatever had been bothering him earlier was gone now, and for the first time he looked a little human.

"Was there something in particular you wanted, Peter?" Harry asked kindly. Peter turned to his friend.

"Just to see if you were free, I just wasn't expecting—"

"I got that." Harry smiled gently.

"Well, I guess we could go somewhere together if you're free, catch up again." Peter said, talking mostly to Harry. I felt myself moving away, ready to leave them to it. As far as I was concerned, anything between Peter and I was no more. The night Max attacked it had been okay, but Gwen had been there—without her, Peter and I had nothing left. Soon Gwen would be leaving all together, ensuring that anything between me and Peter would die and rot in her absence.

"How about all of us go?" Harry asked, catching me sneaking away. I froze.

"Um…"

"I can text Gwen." Peter said with a little smile. "I just passed her a few blocks away, she didn't look busy." He turned to his friend. "Besides, if you're already met Claudia then you should meet Gwen, too."

"Well," I said at last. "If we're doing that, can we go to the skate park? It's been a while."

Peter's eyes lit up like candles, shimmering with hope. "That would be good."

"Okay." I said.

"Okay." Harry smiled.

"Okay." Peter led the way out.

* * *

Gwen caught up with us as we left the building that was Oscorp, catching onto my arm and leaning in to say, "You're alright?"

"I'm fine." I smiled. "I told you I would be."

"How did you get out?"

"I'll explain later."

Behind us the boys spoke softly to one another, for the introductions between Harry and Gwen had been quick and to the point. Uncomplicated, just as Harry liked it. I was happy to give them a wide berth, and it was even better when we passed the street where my apartment resided. Gwen and I dashed up to fetch my skateboard, which I had purchased a while back. When Peter and I had first become friends, he gained my trust by teaching me how to skateboard, promising that he wouldn't let me get hurt. After a while I got better and eventually got my own skateboard to practice on, spending most evening at the park either on my own or with Gwen and Peter. Martha had even joined me once or twice. However, when Peter began to drift away, the need to skate lessoned with his lack of company.

It had gathered dust in my closet. The design beneath was a mixture of blues, ranging from sky blue to the depths of the ocean, and Peter told me that looking at that was like looking into my eyes. The memory pained me, but I got it out nonetheless, and together me and Gwen left my home as soon as we had come. Martha was nowhere to be seen, and I left a quick note saying I would be at the park if she needed me before closing and locking the door behind me.

We caught up with the boys in the street, which was thinning out as dusk fell upon us. Gwen squeezed her way next to Peter and spoke to him like they'd never stopped talking, while Harry looked on admirably. The ground began to dip as he descended towards the park, at which point I dropped my skateboard and trapped it beneath my foot.

"Race?" Peter asked, flashing a grin.

"Hardly fair, you have skateboards." Gwen said disapprovingly.

"And I'm in a suit, not exactly acceptable running attire." Harry interjected.

"Racing or not, I'll see you all down there in five." I said, and before they could respond, I was gliding down the pavement.

I planted my feet firmly on the board. The faster I went the lower I dropped, feeling like a surfer. Whatever people were still around moved out of the way without question, treating it as a regular occurrence from the teens around this neighbourhood. It worked just fine with me. I let the sound of the wheels against the tarmac engulf me, while the humid air died with the breeze coming my way.

When the turning came, I rose up and shifted my shift so that I could pivot right, which I did effectively after a long time practicing. My stomach flipped with exhilaration and I couldn't help but laugh in glee, overjoyed that I hadn't forgotten how to skate. I'd forgotten how alive this had made me feel, how in control I was, and it was the first time I could smile without it feeling wrong on my lips.

I wove easily round the ramps before flipping the board beneath my feet, jumping and turning so that I faced the entrance to the park. Peter rolled in at that moment, looking incredibly pleased with himself, and he was followed by our two out-of-breath companions. Harry skidded to a stop, not seeming to care about his contradiction, and grinned at me. I couldn't help it; I grinned back and stamped my foot down on the curve of my skateboard, flipping it up before catching it in my hand.

"Come on, then, little rich boy," I called. "Show us what superior moves you've got."

"I don't skate." he protested, spinning like a child as Peter circled him on his board.

"You have to with these two." Gwen told him. "They gave up on me a long time ago, though."

"You blondes suck at everything." I teased, strolling towards her. She reached to hit me and I ducked, laughing as she slapped air.

"Well I'm sorry for being brainy and not sporty."

"Apology not accepted." I ducked from another attack.

"Come on, man, give it a go." Peter encouraged Harry, sliding his board over to his friend in the same way he used to do with me. Harry caught it under his foot but remained unsure, but Peter didn't give him much time to think it over. He pushed his friend who yelled out in surprise, toppling off before breaking out in a fit of laughter. He knocked his friend the way a best friend would, something that I couldn't help but smile at. This Harry was different. This Harry was Peter's best friend from his childhood, a look into his past. This Harry, young and free, was kind of likeable.

And it went on like that for a good three hours. Harry would try and fail again and again until he mastered his balance, and after realising he was going to fall more often than not, he discarded his tie and waistcoat on the ground. Gwen sat and laughed at us, especially when Harry shouted abuse at me for showing off on the ramps, or when I toppled off once or twice. Peter taught Harry how to do board flips, borrowing my board, and if he wasn't he was sat talking to Gwen about England. He kept looking my way, and something told me that he would pull me aside sooner or later.

But for now, it was just us, a group of young, carefree kids enjoying the last of the sun. The sky turned to the raging colours of fire, blood and Hell, but it was beautiful. For the last hour it was just our silhouettes, jumping and running and laughing, pretending that everything was okay. For a minute, we were free. For a minute, we were happy. For a minute, we belonged, even Harry.

It was the first and last time we would ever be together and laughing.

* * *

We parted ways at around eight in the evening. Gwen had left half an hour earlier, leaving me to sit and watch the boys interact. They replayed stories from their childhoods, forgetting I was there at all, but I didn't mind. It was nice to see Peter smile again.

When Harry declared it was his time to go, he thanked us and left on a high note, a complete and utter dork now unlike the pretentious businessman from earlier. I tried not to let it bother me, especially when Peter sauntered up to me with his board under his arm, a goofy smile on his slightly sweaty face. He stared up at me for a long time, for I was perched on top of one of the ramps. I stared back and smiled a little, not sure on what to say.

"Get down." he said.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

I slid off timidly, watching him carefully. I was about to move out of the way but he was too fast. He trapped me against the wall of the ramp with his body, planting the palms of his hands against the wall on either side of my head. My breathing stopped entirely for a second. He leaned down, his eyes bright even in the dim light. He came so close that our foreheads touched and our noses brushed against one another, our breaths mingling. It made me want to melt at his feet.

"I don't care that you've been avoiding me." he whispered. "You don't have to tell me why. You don't have to tell me why you were at Oscorp, at least not yet, you don't even need to tell me about Harry. I don't care about any of that. I care about you. I've missed you, I've been so lost without you, and the last few weeks have reminded me just how much I need you. I know I ended things, and I can understand why you'd want to keep things like that, but that hasn't stopped me from wanting and loving you."

"Peter—"

"But I need to know you'll be here _now._ I need to know that even if we can't be together, we can still be friends. You are my life, Claudia, you are everything I want. I don't think I can go another day without you being there."

"How can I when you go and say things like that?" I whispered.

He said nothing. Instead, he pushed against me and crushed his mouth to mine. Oh, _hell_ _and heaven on earth! _I melted against him, locking my arms around him in a vice grip as I heated up like lava. His lips moved against mine so perfectly it was like we'd never been apart, and everything sent my mind into a frenzy. His taste like mint, his smell like musky earth and city air, his feel hot and cold and oh so blissful. I kissed him in a way I had never kissed anyone, like it was the only way to survive, like it was the last time I would ever kiss him.

When I pushed him away for air, he tangled his fingers in my hair and kept our faces close, breathing heavily. We were toe to toe, chest to chest and nose to nose, closer than we had been for a long time, yet the chill following my words was enough to make everything else insignificant.

"I can't." I whispered.

"W-what?" he stammered, his lips grazing my cheek and down to my jaw, only to follow the curve of my throat. I fought a moan.

"We can't go there again." I told him as gently as I could, pushing against his chest. He moved away, and while before his eyes had glowered with hope, now they were dimmed with the harsh pain of our reality.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't…"

"No, it's not that." I murmured. "I love you. I don't want to, I wish I didn't, but I do. I miss you so much. But I can't be with you knowing that someday you'll want walk away again to protect me. Right now we have too much going on, we don't have time for each other. We're standing in the way of each other now, not anything else, not even Spiderman. Right now, us just isn't… us, anymore."

"Claudia—"

"Life got in the way, Peter." I said, pressing my fingers to his lips. "But that doesn't mean it's over for good. We just need time." I smiled a little. "I'm not walking away, I'm just not walking ahead, either."

A long silence fell between us as he absorbed my words. At last he moved away, giving me room to breathe, leaving me both heavy and light at the same time.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked me.

"Sure." I answered a little breathlessly.

Nothing was the same after that.

* * *

**Make sure to review!**


	11. Threats

**Guys I love you all for reading and all the rest of it, you have no idea! Since I've not updated for a couple of days, here's a nice long one for you;) Enjoy!**

* * *

The next morning, Martha and I were getting ready to spend a Saturday together for neither of us had to work. The plan was to go for a spot of shopping, both for groceries and personal items, and while that sounded like not much of a day out, it was more than enough for us. We would usually stop midday in a café to get some lunch and a coffee, perhaps even go for a walk before the shopping commenced, but by the end of it we would end the day watching a movie with a huge bowl of popcorn, a bottle of soda and plenty of blankets. It was a rare Saturday I always looked forward to.

We were laughing and raring to go when the knock on the door halted us. Martha looked at me with quizzical blue eyes. "Expecting anyone?"

"Nope." I said with a frown. After past experiences, Peter and Gwen would never turn up without sending me a text of confirmation, and Martha didn't really have anyone close enough to her to come and visit. Our apartment was our little island separated from the rest of the world, a place that was unreachable and safe. Peter and Gwen were lucky to be let onto the shore of our home, and they knew to appreciate just how sensitive we were about who set foot inside. Whoever was on the other side of that door was not good company to us.

Martha placed her bag down on the counter and edged cautiously towards the door, sneaking a look through the peep hole. I watched her back stiffen with agitation almost instantly, so before I knew it I was beside her with my eye to the peep hole. On the other side were three men dressed in dark suits, the one in the middle raising his fist for a second round of knocks. He looked familiar, with scruff on his jaw and dark hair styled carefully out of his face. His eyes looked black, reminding me of a hawk seeking out prey from a far distance. I felt Martha nudge me and ask a question, but nothing focussed. All I could feel was the sudden pounding of my heart.

"Miss Thatcher, open up." The man in the middle said. I jumped back, unable to keep the fear off my face. Martha looked at me with an equal amount of fear along with a certain amount of dread.

"Claudia," she whispered. "What did you _do?_"

I thought things over. No, Harry had ensured my safety yesterday. He'd spoken up in my defence and claimed I was with him. He was the boss of _that place, _he had secured my well-being with just a few simple words. Sure, a girl running like a criminal in the most famous building in New York was indeed suspicious, but as far as I was concerned, Harry had claimed me to be innocent.

Martha opened the door. The man in the middle looked at my sister with analysing eyes, like a computer matching a face to a provided name. Not satisfied he looked towards me. His eyes lit with recognition and he smiled thinly, a triumphant smile that was at the same time tainted with annoyance. I took an involuntary step back when he and his men moved towards me.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"N.Y.P.D." he answered, flashing something that passed off as credentials. My heart lodged itself in my throat in the brutal attempt to choke me. "We came to ask you a few questions, Miss Thatcher."

"What kind of questions?" Martha snapped, stepping between me and Mr Scruff. He looked at her with those hawk eyes, perhaps wondering if she was worth a peck in the throat for getting in his way.

"And you are?"

"Her sister." Martha growled, moving so that she came to shield me completely. Around her shoulder I glared at the strangers in our home. Something about them wasn't right, like a shift in the breeze that led towards a hurricane. They made my skin crawl when they looked at me, or around the apartment, looking both cruelly amused and disgusted.

Mr Scruff grinned menacingly at Martha and moved towards us. "I'm afraid we need to take your sister for some questioning. There was an occurrence yesterday that I'm sure she _hasn't _mentioned."

"She's not going anywhere with you."

"That would imply that she is guilty."

"Guilty of _what?_"

"Unauthorised entry in the Oscorp building at approximately two o'clock yesterday afternoon." Mr Scruff smiled grimly, one that made me shiver and edge even further away. Martha looked at me in confusion, and the guilt awakened inside me like an old wound.

"She was at college at that time." Martha said.

Mr Scruff shook his head. "CCTV says otherwise. We need to understand _why _she was there, and if she has done anything to affect the welfare of the company and its employees."

"She's just a kid!"

"That's invalid." Mr Scruff nodded to his men, gesturing that they come towards me. I stood frozen, all logical thought leaving me. Something about this just wasn't right, so while I tried to think it over with frightened thoughts the men came and grabbed me on either arm before pulling me towards the door. I replayed everything from the day before. Gwen pulling me into Oscorp, the research (or lack of) around Max Dillon, the encounter with Harry. If I was being arrested for intruding on something that wasn't any of my business, then that meant Oscorp had something to hide. Judging by the outcome of Max Dillon, who looked to be more and more likely the same 'man' from Times Square, people who knew too much disappeared. Max was off the charts. Nothing was ever spoken of Dr Connors again after his downfall, and when I thought back even further, perhaps even Peter's parents had something to do with Oscorp. Richard Parker had worked at Oscorp, that much I knew, so what if something happened that they needed to make him disappear, too?

I stopped thinking when my feet left the safety of the doorway and out into the hall. I turned back. "Martha?"

"You can't just take her!" my sister was yelling, held back by Mr Scruff.

"We'll bring her back to you safe and sound, Miss Thatcher." Was all he said before he followed us out.

"Martha!"

"It's okay, honey, you'll be okay!" I heard the rattling of keys and the shifting of her bag. I looked forward for a split second, not even that, to see where I was going, and when I looked back I saw Mr Scruff slamming the door shut before Martha could get out.

I snapped and screamed "_No!_" before ramming myself into the men who held me captive. Gathering up as much force as possible for a small girl, I flung all three of us into one of the walls, knocking the breath out of the guy on my right who collided with the wall and be crushed against it by my body. The guy on my left yanked on my arm, cursing viciously, only to cry out when I lifted myself up to try and kick him away. He grabbed my ankles, halting my attack, but just as the guy on my right began to push against me, mostly likely aiming to floor me, I threw the length and weight of my body into the one holding my ankles. He stumbled and fell back, smacking his head against the wall. Releasing my ankles, my feet slapped the floor before I kicked up to hit him square in the face. His head made a cracking sound against the wall while blood gushed out of his nose.

"For God's sake!" Mr Scruff yelled. Beyond that, I could hear Martha shrieking out my name and pummelling her fists against the inside of her own door. I swivelling in the hold of my second captor and struggled with everything I had, responding only out of instinct in response to my sister's yelling, so before I knew it I had my teeth buried in the skin of this guy's arm. An exploding pain erupted in the side of my head as he swung a punch at me, and by the time I hit the floor I could hear nothing and tasted blood in my mouth.

I was rolled over in my vulnerable state. Straddling me, Mr Scruff blurred into view, shoving a white cloth against my mouth and nose none-too-gently. I tried to yell out or fight back, but I was so dazed that I could barely move my head. I felt like my head was splitting and caving in on itself, and this smell I can't describe burned me on the inside right down to the bottom of my lungs.

Fear, anger and panic evaded me. Everything grew fuzzy, unclear. I turned my head with aching slowness as my eyes began to droop closed, and there in the doorway of my home was Mr Scruff, gently guiding my sister's limp body to the ground. He pulled away a white piece of cloth, stuffing it in his pocket. Kicking my sister's hand inside the apartment he forced the door shut on her. I tried to call out to my sister, but Mr Scruff's silhouette distracted me. I felt so small and weak and useless. I felt powerless. I felt consciousness slipping away from me.

"Thing's would have been much easier if you'd have cooperated." Mr Scruff sighed, sounding bored.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

When I came to, I was lying on a table. My back hurt, as well as my arms and legs. Everything felt wrong and out of place, questions flooding into my mind before I could even comprehend my situation properly. I dabbed my lover lip with my tongue, tasting dried blood. I searched my memory, needing something to bring me an explanation. I dug deep while keeping my closed, until piece by piece events came bubbling back to me.

My eyes snapped open. A bald-headed man was looking over me with empty eyes and a grim line of his mouth. Judging by the smoothness of his features, I could only guess he wasn't expecting anything from me, so when I bolted up right to butt him headlong on the forehead, the sound he made was one of more than surprise. As he staggered out of my view, I scrambling off the surface I was on and ran for any exit that blurred into view. My legs failed me, not completely awake from whatever had put me to sleep, so when I found a metal door with a slim glass window, I was practically on my knees and weakly punching the silver metal.

"You're a lively one, I'll give you that." the man behind me remarked with a smirk as I looked back. I felt like a damn rabbit being cornered by a fox, completely disorientated and blinded by fear and panic. In my head I could only hear Martha's screaming, following by the image of his limp arm being kicked out of the way in order to shut a door. I felt sick and wrong, wanting to throw up but being unable to wretch. I tried to stumble to my feet, wobbling a little until my head cleared just a little more.

"It wears off after a few minutes." the stranger told me.

"W-who… w-what…"

"I suggest you just sit down and listen to me. Things are going to be a little fuzzy for you during the next two minutes or so."

He moved towards me, but my reflexes were so delayed that I couldn't fight him off before he manhandled me into a chair. I focussed on my hands, the left being bloody, as I flattered them against the silver surface of the table I'd woken on. It steamed with moisture around my fingers, and soon I was able to move my hands and leave a trail of sweat in the wake of my fingers.

"I want you to answer the next few questions with a simple shake or nod of your head." said the stranger. I looked up and tried to focus on him. "I'm Donald Menken; nod if you heard me clearly."

I made a single, futile nod, still watching my heavily sweating hands.

"You had a heavy dose of chloroform forced into your system; from what I heard and the state of my men, it must have been necessary." He leaned forward, and my mind process recognised that he was sitting opposite me. I glanced around, everything becoming clearer and clearer; it was only a matter of time before I found my voice. The room we were in was too bright with artificial light, yet the walls we a dull grey and lacked any windows or mirrors. It felt like an isolation cell, or a very severe prison cell.

"Now then, answer me this." said Menken. "Do you understand why you're here?"

I decided to test my voice. "No." I croaked. I cleared my throat and managed to add, "Where is _here?_"

"Found your voice; you're stronger willed than you look." He smiled approvingly. "And here is not of your concern just yet. Next question: do you have a connection to Oscorp?"

"No." I replied automatically. "What did you do to my sister?"

"She's fine; knocked out the same way as you in order to halt any commotion. I've seen to it that she was revisited and put to bed before she could wake up. With any luck, the note left lying around about your whereabouts should convince her that she dreamed the whole scenario."

I guessed, despite my still-fuzzy thoughts, I had to just play along with his neutral tone, since they had chloroform against me while I had virtually nothing but my fists, which right now were useless since my muscles had turned to jelly. I pressed the fear down, focussing on the fact that my sister was safe. What happened to me didn't matter, she was the only one who counted.

"How long was I out for?"

"No more than an hour."

I sank back into the chair, and not even out of my own free will. I felt heavy and weightless, unsteady in my own skin, so the only thing my body could do was slouch.

"You say you have no connection to Oscorp, so why were you here yesterday afternoon?"

"I felt like being nosey."

"You think this is funny?"

"I think this is illegal." I blinked heavily. "And abusive."

"What's your connection to Harry Osborn?"

The question threw me, and finally my annoyance rode to the surface. "I'm sorry, am I being interrogated for being curious or because I talk to people who happen to be in Oscorp?"

"Your involvement has shaken up a few… dynamics, here, Claudia." Menken told me in a none-too-friendly tone. "Your face is beginning to appear everywhere in the news along with your sister's, so to have you snooping around Oscorp will get people talking."

"People don't talk, because apparently crap like this tends to be the result of talking."

"You didn't answer my question." He looked at me through slit eyes, judging me while calculating my character. He appeared to be cautious, apparently aware of my violent streak, and I couldn't help but wonder how much he actually knew about me. "What is your connection to Harry Osborn?"

"As far as I'm concerned, none." I snapped. "I barely know him; I've met him _twice_."

"Interesting." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, and something in his eye glinted to the point that I became very unsettled. "Then what's your connection to his best friend, Peter Parker?"

I froze, feeling my eyes widen. Who the hell was this guy? "W-what—"

"You hang around with him a lot. However, just under two months ago, you two just stopped talking. Gwen Stacy, too. Yet now you're all together again. As I recall, you two were exceptionally close last night." He leaned in closer, taking advantage of my silence. "Tell me, what do you know about Peter Parker?"

A single beat passed before I regained my composure. "Only that he's my ex-boyfriend, and that we split up because things got in the way."

"What kind of things?"

"College, work, scholarships—" I stopped and stared him straight in the eyes. "Is there something I should know? Better yet, why the hell have you bastards been following me?" I tried not to sound nervous when I said this.

""You know things." He said lowly, leaning away. "You didn't come to Oscorp to be nosey, you came to search for something, something that you failed to find. You and that Stacy girl know too much, and it's enough to put me on edge."

I couldn't stop myself. After nearly being killed in Times Square and being given no reasons as to why, I couldn't help the question falling out of my mouth like vomit. "What did you do to Max Dillon?"

He leaned completely back into his hair, squaring his shoulders defensively. Something lethal flashed in his eyes. I felt both exhilarated and unnerved by the threats swimming in his gaze, fear and excitement prickling beneath my skin like another kind of blood flow.

"Be careful, Miss Thatcher," he warned, crossing his arms, "You're walking on thin enough ice as it is, don't shatter it with a move like that." He stared at me long and hard, making a decision I couldn't begin to understand. I felt the weight of his gaze like a tonne of bricks, and I found myself all of a sudden very afraid. "I have you on my radar, I know how to find you. That sister of yours is very fond of you; she would be devastated if something were to happen to you."

Fear melted into one of silent panic and dread. "Are you _threatening _me?"

He ignored me. "And what lengths would you go to in order to protect her? Would you kill for her, or die for her? What would you do if her life was on the line?"

No. No, no, no. He was _actually _threatening me, threatening my sister! We'd been hurt once, we'd been separated during such a violent situation that still haunted me, and I'd never thought I'd have to worry about that again. Now it felt like the safe bubble we'd enclosed around ourselves was shrinking, zoning in on us until it had no choice but to pop. I couldn't go through that again, and neither could she. I wouldn't let that happen again!

I sagged, letting him crush me. "What do you want me to do?" I whispered.

He smiled triumphantly. "Luckily for you, nothing yet. All you have to do is keep your nose out business that has nothing to do with you. If you can't do that, then I suggest you keep a tight eye on your sister." He smiled cruelly. "I'd hate to see anything happen to her because of you."

"_Stop it._"

"Lucky for your friend, she's moving out of the country." He continued. "No harm will come to her since she will no longer be our problem. But you, you, Parker and Osborn are really beginning to be a pain for all of us." He pointed at me with a bony finger. "But if you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, we'll end this as friends. It would be much easier for you, though, if you just kept away from those young men; they'll become your undoing."

I stood up then, having heard enough. "I'll be my own undoing, I don't need anyone else to do it for me." I growled. "Don't worry, your dirty little secrets of kidnap and stalking are safe with me." I pointed a finger right back at him. "Are we done here?"

He smiled, and it was a twistedly pleasant one. "We are," he said, just as a door opened behind me. I never had time to fight back before that same cloth from earlier was around my face again; all I could do was make a muffled cry of surprise. Menken stood and grinned at me as my legs caved in on themselves once more.

"I'll send Max your regards." he sneered before everything went dark.

* * *

**It's fun to be mean.**


	12. Torn

**Chapter 12! Again sorry about the delay, busy busy busy! Thanks for all the follows guys, getting more and more each day :D**

* * *

I woke up on the street, where Peter was shaking me. I was cold and stiff, not completely with it the second time around but more aware than the first. Peter was saying something, but I couldn't focus on his words. When I opened my eyes I looked beyond his ashen face and towards the twinkling lights of the city, bright and shimmering against the black sky. I could hear the flowing, never ending traffic and the mindless chatter of people, while the smell of cold air and heavy fumes filled me like the smell of home. The lights blurred and sharpened again and again until I felt my head spinning, but for a minute I felt like I was living an all-too-beautiful dream.

"Claudia, can you hear me?" Peter's voice was urgent, so much so that the dream shattered right before my eyes. There he was, dark eyes boring into mine while his hands caressed my face with concern. His face terrified me, not because of his sudden closeness but because of the unintentional threat he was presenting to me.

_It would be much easier for you, though, if you just kept away from those young men; they'll become your undoing._

Right now, looking at him, I could only envision the danger he was putting Martha in without even meaning to. I had an image of her without a life, where her body would be still and cold and pale, her eyes unseeing and her lips blue. It was an image I couldn't stand to see, but there it was. I saw it in Peter's eyes, in Spiderman's eyes, and with it I felt the agony of something that wasn't even real. I needed to get home to Martha, but Peter was in the way, and the longer he stayed in the way, the more threat my sister was under.

My hands collided with his chest so fast I didn't have time to think. One minute he was there, and the next he was a few feet away, partly crouched and partly sprawled on the ground. His phone, which had been apparently grasped in his hand, clattered to the ground. I moved without my own permission, struggling to my feet. The world spun so much that I fell back into the wall; I braced my hands against it until the spinning stopped. As this happened Peter carefully got to his feet, extending a hand towards me that said, _I won't hurt you. _He looked pained, his expression like that of a kicked puppy, which made my loathing for Menken grow like a festering poison inside me. Despite the noise and the questioning looks of many people around us, Peter and I were in our own little bubble of sudden doubt and unease. I hated it.

"Listen to me, sweetie." Peter said, edging closer to me. "It's just me, your friend. What happened?"

_Friend. _A friend who loved me and vice versa, a friend who had been there when nobody else was, a friend who was on the verge of ruining all that was good. What agonised me was that it wasn't even his fault.

I wanted to tell him what happened. I wanted to tell him I was being threatened, that Martha was being threatened, but the pebble in my throat choked me into silence. Anyone could be watching. Menken had confessed to following us, so who was I to challenge him now? Dumping me in the middle of New York was surely a test, and quite frankly I wasn't willing to test whether Menken's threat was true.

But I wouldn't leave Peter hanging. Just as I was about to make up god knows what excuse, however, someone accompanied Peter, someone shorter than Peter but more intimidating, someone who was probably dangerous but intriguing, someone who was a threat to me more now than ever before.

Harry looked between me and Peter with a look of genuine confusion. He looked different, even darker than before. Shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes, which in themselves looked incredibly tired. However, through the tiredness and confusion, he actually looked like he was in pain. There was something rigid about his movements, careful and overly controlled. He even looked wrong; there was no tie around his neck and the top button of his shirt was undone, which hung out of his pants that were loose around his hips. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing skinny yet muscular arms that prickled with goose-bumps. Biker boots hugged his feet with a menacing, good-boy-gone-bad look, which were suddenly edging towards me.

"You okay, there, Thatcher?" he said, but his voice wasn't the challenging drone I'd grown accustomed to in just two visits. His hair fell over his forehead in a way that said he no longer cared for his looks, so the shadows overcasting his pale face made him look incredibly dangerous.

I backed up against the wall so fast that I hit my head. I didn't care. I needed to get away from them and home to Martha. I felt myself building up with adrenaline; the powerful need to run was so thick in my veins it was clogging me from the inside. Harry was coming closer, followed by Peter, which made me look around in silent panic for an escape. It was then that I realised I wasn't just anywhere in New York, but I was outside Oscorp.

That did it for me. Harry was so close that he reached out with the intention of grasping my shoulder, but I never gave him chance. Like a rabbit dodging the jaws of a fox, I bolted past him and into the thick crowd around us. People gasped and jumped out of my way, but over that I heard the yell of my name from both Peter and Harry. I ignored them and didn't look back. I had only one destination in mind and that was to get home.

I don't know how long I ran for. I had to duck into an alley just to get my breath back, and by that point my muscles were screaming in protest, my lungs were on fire, and tears streamed down my face due to running against the breeze. If the circumstances had been different I would have collapsed there and then. But I didn't. I pushed on because it was the only thing I was strong enough to do. I kept going because that was what I always did. Martha and I had made a rule together, and that was that if everything else went to hell, we would never give up on each other.

All was going to hell for me; Gwen was leaving, I had more than one person out for my blood, and the only person who could help me was the one person who was risking my sister's life.

Rain began to fall somewhere between abandoning the guys and ending up in this alley. It pounded down on me in icy droplets, making my hair stick to my neck and face while my clothes clung to me in an ungodly fashion. Cold, frightened and incredibly disorientated, I could do nothing but take cover under the steps of a fire escape. For the first time in a long, long time, I felt vulnerable and alone.

"_Claudia?" _came a cry before I was barely crouched in the shadows. My heart pounded fast in my chest; how had they kept up with me? I stayed silent and still, praying I would go unnoticed among the shadows and hissing sound of the rain.

I saw him too late. Harry Osborn was suddenly dragging me out from under my shelter, wrestling me to the wall. I shrieking and fought against him, ignoring whatever words he tried to yell at me. He was incredibly strong for such a lanky boy, the power in his body vibrating as he pinned my arms to the wall above my head. He was a head or so taller than me, so his shadows consumed my form like ink on paper. He smelled fresh and lacked any warmth, his hands icy on my wrists. Droplets of rain fell from the tips of his hair, shimmering over the glow of his unnatural blue eyes.

When he spoke he seemed breathless. "Calm down, Claudia, just listen to me." he said calmly, staring at me intently. I struggled just a little more but it didn't take much for him to keep me against the wall, and eventually I slackened in defeat, utterly spent. "What happened?"

"Leave me alone." I said, but there was nothing but pain in my voice.

"No, not until you tell me what happened to you." Collecting both of my wrists in one hand, he touched my cheekbone, which throbbed under his touch. "Who hurt you?"

"No one."

"Liar." He looked back at me, his gaze hard. "I could help you."

I laughed bitterly. "No, you can't." I spat. "Just let me go home. Let me get to my sister."

At that he blinked, a strange understanding crossing his eyes. "You're in trouble." It wasn't a question. I looked anywhere but at him, afraid of being watched. From what I could tell we were alone, but who knew where Menken hid his men. I shoved a little against Harry, and this time he slackened.

"Go home," he told me softly. "Check she's okay. After that we'll talk."

"Who said anything about talking? Why would I want to talk to you?"

He tilted his head. "You and Peter are going through too much to sit down and talk, Gwen is never around, so I'm the only choice you have." He smiled thinly. "You don't strike me as the type to have many friends."

"What if I said you were the reason I was in trouble?" I demanded, but he didn't miss a beat.

"Then I'll do whatever I can to get you out of it." He said in confidence.

I stared at him helplessly, not a sound apart from the rain around us. It was strange in Harry Osborn's company. He was intimidating and inviting, both dangerous and oddly safe, an equal balance of good and bad. There was something that wasn't a romantic attraction but something deeper, an understanding that some people went without throughout their lifetime. Somehow he knew me and I knew him, both of us struggling, both of us drowning in a vast ocean of disappointment and abandonment. It was something that was probably dangerous but also safe, a careful balance that, if disturbed in the slightest, could go one way or the other.

Right now, I needed help, and the only person who was offering it to me was him. Peter wouldn't be able to help because his feelings would get in the way, and Gwen would only worry and get distracted from the bigger things in her life. But even if they could help, they weren't here; Harry was.

"Why are you helping me?" I whispered. He looked at me carefully before releasing my wrists, causing my arms to fall limply to my sides. I focussed on the droplets of rain dripping from my fingertips.

"We're one of the same," he told me. "I'm willing help anyone who is in any way similar to me."

"You know nothing about me."

"You know that's not true." He objected with the shake of his head. His eyes looked up at the crying sky before falling back on me. "Go home, check on Martha. Do what you have to do, then come and find me at Oscorp."

I vigorously shook my head. "I can't go there." I said, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.

He thought for a moment. "Where do you live?"

It was a decision that only a frightened Claudia Thatcher would make without a thought. I didn't need to answer, but instead led the way. Harry looked over his shoulder before following me, a guard shadowing his mistress below the weeping sky.

* * *

I hated lying to Martha. When I got in it was pushing for nine in the evening, and it took me a moment to compose myself into someone of a carefree, happy young girl. With numb hands I opened the door, leaving puddles in my wake as I walked into the apartment. Martha was pacing the kitchen before he eyes landed on me, wide and fearful. Her blonde hair flung out in all directions and shadows darkened the skin under her pale blue eyes. Skin ashen, she looked like she had just witnessed the waking of the dead.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, rushing towards me. as much as it pained me, I forced a smile onto my face. Deep down I was relieved, relieved because she was here and that she was awake and safe. The tension fell out of me like leaking water, slackening my shoulders and turning my legs to jelly.

"I left a note." I murmured, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

"Yes, but I thought… I mean I dreamt that…" she raked her fingers through her hair, her eyes both relieved and afraid. "I dreamt that these men took you and that you were screaming… they locked the door so that I couldn't get to you—"

"It was just a dream, Martha." I lied. "I've been out with Gwen and Peter. We got caught in the rain so…"

"What happened to you?" she cut me off, running towards me. Her warm hands cupped my cold face, rubbing the spot when Harry had touched earlier. I thought up the quickest lie possible.

"Collision on the skateboard, elbow in face." I shrugged it off. "No biggie."

She didn't look convinced. "Where's your skateboard?"

"I borrowed Peter's."

A few tense moments passed. "Get a shower before you catch your death." She lovingly stroked my face before cupping my neck, tugging so that she could kiss my forehead. I fought the tears that threatened to fill my eyes.

"Don't wait up; I'll be going straight to bed after. I'm exhausted." I told her with another smile. She smiled back with a nod, releasing me entirely. With the weight of guilt weighing me down, I padded my way towards the bathroom, kicking off my shoes along the way.

Within twenty minutes I was showered, dried and in my room getting dressed. The rain had gone off by that time, and when I was sure that Martha wouldn't be coming into my room, I opened my window so that Harry could slip inside. Dripping wet from head to toe, he looked around my room with the eyes of a curious puppy. I tossed him the towel I had used on my hair so that he could at least dry off his hair. He did so while I busied myself tying my laces.

With a quick look outside my room, seeing Martha nowhere in sight but hearing the sound of her own door clicking shut, Harry and I disappeared through the window in which he had climbed through. Silently, like cats in the dead of night, we made our way to the roof of my building.

With Harry closely flanking me, I felt just a little bit better. Martha was fine, Peter was nowhere in sight which meant I didn't need to hurt him any more than I already had, and Gwen didn't need to be dragged into my life when she was just about to escape the past of her own. No one could watch me up here, no one could hear us or reach us. It was the safest place I could think off.

For the moment, that was okay. It would be short lived.

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	13. Understanding

**Chapter 13! Again thanks everyone who is taking the time to read this, it's so lovely to know that this story is liked and appreciated :) I wouldn't be writing it if it wasn't for you guys **

* * *

"People are watching you, you and Peter." I said. We sat in an alcove on the roof, away from the potential threat of rain and the cold. Harry's shirt clung to him from the wet, but he didn't seem affected. His half fringe hung over his right eye, casting shadow over that side of his face. If I didn't know him and had crossed him in a dark alley, I would have turned around and gone the other way. But I did know him, at least a little. A little went a long way.

"Who?" he asked without a trace of emotion in his voice.

"Oscorp." I told him flatly. "They drugged me and my sister earlier today; they said they wanted to ask me questions. When I woke up I was in this sort of cell. The guy asked me what my connection to Oscorp was, and then to you and Peter. I told him I didn't know anything, so he threatened me and my sister. He told me that hanging out with you and Peter will only make things worse."

He absorbed this in a moment of silence. "Did they hurt you there?"

"Physically? No. Emotionally? Yep."

"The people of Oscorp are funny people." he told me quietly, relaxing against the wall opposite me. He stretched his legs out, which were long enough that he flattened his feet up against the wall on my left side. "Not hard to see why when they had my father as a boss for a number of years." He scratched his head thoughtfully. "I knew they were watching over Peter. I found a bunch of files and videos about him; from what I could tell they were watching him every few days. Do you have any idea why they'd want to follow him?"

I shook my head, feeling the lie swell up in my throat. "No." But of course I knew. Peter was Spiderman; he'd been bitten by a spider in Oscorp. After that he became stronger than any human with unnatural senses and agility, and just a few months later he was swinging around New York with another identity taking out the bad guys. If people knew how Spiderman had originated, and that he was only just a kid, people would look to Oscorp as the enemy, the company that made chemicals that changed the cells in a human. To a civilian, that would be seen as criminal. Also people weren't stupid; it wouldn't take long for them to make the connection between Spiderman, Dr Connors and Max Dillon and that they were tied to Oscorp in some shape or form. People would panic and rise up, thus shutting down Oscorp once and for all.

But if the members of the Oscorp board could get rid of these experiments and make them disappear forever, they'd be safe and hidden from the public eye. Spiderman was a liability, as was Max Dillon and Dr Connors. They had to be dealt with. What frightened me the most, however, was that if Oscorp had the power to change the cells in a human and make them into something else entirely, they had the power to literally change the world. _That_ was _terrifying_.

"I could kill him." I snarled under my breath, looking out to the open space on the roof. From the corner of my eye I saw Harry tilt his head curiously.

"The guy who threatened you?"

"Yeah," I said. "The last time someone threatened us, I held a gun to their head; they got lucky when I didn't pull the trigger."

"And why didn't you pull it?" Harry asked with general curiosity. I looked at him carefully.

"Because I didn't want to be the animal." I said steadily. Harry regarded me with guarded eyes.

"We're all animals when you think about it; it's just that some of us have a harder time being tamed than others." He brought his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. "Sometimes it's good to let go now and then."

"You say that like you've had experience in letting go."

"I have. My dad sent me away when I was eleven to a boarding school. He gave me nothing, told me nothing, so I spent the next ten years thinking he didn't want me as a son. Mom died when I was young, so being a naïve kid I thought that I was no longer good enough for the great Norman Osborn. Naturally I lashed out as I got older; still do. I learned that keeping things in was worse than letting it out. I wanted to hurt people because everyone had always hurt me. Lashing out was the only time that I felt in control of who I really was."

"Did you and your dad ever work things out?"

He laughed bitterly. "No, the next time I saw him was when he was in his deathbed."

I said the next few words with no emotion, because I knew Harry wouldn't want it. "You hated him."

"Not hate, but I didn't love him, either." He tilted his head back against the wall and sighed heavily. "He told me that he sent me away to protect me."

"From what?"

"The truth of the Osborn family." He smiled thinly. "Our last meeting consisted of him telling me I was going to die the same way he did, that there was a thing called the Osborn Curse. And he was right. I am dying. I can feel it running through my blood and killing me slowly on the inside. It's already starting to show." He extended his hand, which trembling violently in the dim light. Struck into silence, I could do nothing but take it in my own hands just so it would stop shaking. "He called it Retro Viral Hyperplasia." Harry continued, fiddling with his collar using his free hand. He pulled so as to expose the flesh on his neck. Pulling his hand out of mine, he dug into his pocket to pull out his phone, which he shone over his neck.

I almost recoiled. The skin there looked to be rotting, mouldy green, tattered flesh infecting his neck. The wound looked sore, like an insect bite gone incredibly wrong. A wave of something I would have never thought I'd feel for Harry hit me all at once, knocking the breath out of me; pity.

"This is what covered my dad all over his body before he died. He couldn't even move, and he had this cough that sounded like he was choking. He told me that the disease began with the shaking of the hand, which is what I have already. In twenty years, maybe less, I'll be no better than him. He sent me away so that he could make a cure, and that he failed so now it's my job to take his place. The only thing that I had left were these genetically modified spider things which could supposedly save me, but they were all destroyed."

Silence thickened the moist air for a long while as I absorbed his words. Were the spiders he spoke of the same as the ones who bit Peter? Maybe. It didn't matter if they were dead, anyway. Harry was all alone. He literally had nothing left. I felt like I understood him just a little bit more, the first ounces of respect beginning to form as I looked at him. Under the wealthy and cocky façade, Harry Osborn was just a boy that life had wronged in a number of ways. Barely in his twenties and he was given the heavy responsibility of a company his father had left behind, along with the mess his father had created. No kid needed that kind of responsibility. No one needed that burden.

"What are you gonna do?" I whispered at last.

"The last thing I can do." he answered. "Those things were dangerous, according to the records that I found. They never got to human testing. But there was no other spider like them, and just before they were destroyed, Spiderman all of a sudden came on the scene. I can't think of anything else that could have created a man who can do whatever a spider can do. He had to have been bitten by one of them, one way or another."

I didn't like where he was going with this. A fear gripped me like a fist in my gut, nauseating me enough that I wanted to wretch. I prayed he wouldn't say what I thought he would. I hoped to all the Gods and Satans that he wasn't going to add another heavy load of pressure on my shoulders. I was already lost enough as it was, pushing away the people I held most dear in order to keep them safe. If Harry was going to go in that direction, I would have to try and protect someone who was potentially putting my only family in danger.

"What are you saying?" I whispered with dread. He looked me dead in the eye.

"You know exactly what I'm saying."

"You can't."

"_Why?_"

"Harry," I said, barely acknowledging that it was the first time I'd addressed him by his first name. "You need to think it over. Whatever happened to Spiderman doesn't mean it could help you. His blood and yours might not be compatible, and I don't need to be clever to know that that could do more damage than good. You need to think this over, do more research—"

"I don't have _time_ for that!" he burst out. I didn't flinch, but instead reached out and grabbed his sleeve in my fist. He was shaking horribly, and the guilt inside was enough to choke me. His hand grabbed my wrist and squeezed, his nails digging into my skin. I focussed on the pain and added pressure on his arm. Pain was real. Pain kept us from spinning out of control. Pain made us feel something other than helplessness. "I'm _dying_, Claudia, don't you get it? I don't have _time_ to wait around." He said with more control, clenching his eyes shut as I squeezed my fingers into his arm.

"I do get that," I told him gently. "But you need to think about what could go wrong, not right."

"What does it matter if it kills me outright?" he snapped. "At least I wouldn't have to suffer anymore."

"Living is a gift, I learned that the hard way. You want a cure so you can live, so you can carry on and have a family, so you can be _so much better_ than your dad. If you truly want that, you need to find the cure the _right _way, not rush into it and get yourself killed anyway."

A few moments passed, just the two of us inflicting mild pain on one another just so we wouldn't lose ourselves in our misery. "I need to _try. _I need to ask him."

"You can, just… don't rush it."

He didn't say anything and released my wrist, to which I let go of his arm. We sat quietly for a long time, listening to one another's breathing. I felt like I should have said something more, but I didn't think words were what was needed. Harry was broken because his body was shutting down. I was broken because my whole world was slowly falling apart, and the pieces were getting knocked away and out of reach. The only person I loved that was safe was Gwen, but one out of three just wasn't enough.

"Get up." I said, getting to my own feet. Harry looked at me in confusion, his eyes tired. When he didn't move, I reached down and grabbed his damp shirt, hoisting him to his feet.

Stumbling after me, I led his to the perimeter of the roof that overlooked the twinkling lights of New York. I could feel his confusion drilling into my like daggers, and he even briefly tried to pull away. I was having none of it. As someone who had attempted suicide, I knew what it meant to see the world in a new light. Back then everything had been dark and lonely and cruel, and it was probably still like that now. But what I learned was that even if everything else was dark, one single light could be enough to keep going. New York was full of lights, all shimmering with life, all of them the essence of beauty and hope in a bad world. Whenever I had a bad day, I would come up here and overlook the city and dazzle myself with the lights, just to remind myself that beauty was hidden under the ugliest forms. Harry needed to see that, too.

I hopped up onto the wall and climbed over the barrier.

"_What the hell are you doing?_" Harry hissed at me. I grinned devilishly at him. Climbing over the rail, only a couple of inches separated me from a fall that would surely kill me. Moving to my left, I glided my way to the very corner of the building that overlooked an open space between two buildings and beyond it, revealing something extraordinary. Harry followed me, cautious but curious. Settling against the corner of the rail, I grasped it and lifted myself up. Carefully I placed my feet on the rail just short of its corner, balancing me nicely. I stood straight, letting my arms fall to my side, and allowed the feeling of being untouchable brainwash me into a sense of calm.

"A friend of mine once showed me a sight like this." I told Harry, looking ahead.

"Were they insane?"

I laughed. "Maybe a little," I said, thinking of the time Peter first swung me up to the building top the night I found out who he really was. That was the night I was released from the cage I had locked myself in, and for a while it was Peter who kept me out of that cage. But I didn't need to rely on him like that anymore. I was free enough now to embrace this view alone and not worry about falling. Peter gave me the push in the right direction, but only I could learn from and adore the destination in which I was guided to.

Harry needed that now. He needed to be reminded that, no matter how bad things got, good was only just a rooftop view away.

"Not everything is bad, you know." I told him softly, closing my eyes so I could feel weightless, even if it was just for a moment. "Sometimes we just need to be reminded of the good."

I moved carefully on the rail, lowering myself until I was safely perched on the small area of the barrier, my hands on the rail above me while my feet dangled over the edge. Harry watched me watching the city, and after a while I felt him move from behind me. I didn't watch him as he grasped the rail, shaking it as if to test its sturdiness. Then, with the light agility of a cat, he lifted himself up the way I had, planting his feet on the rail. The breeze ruffled his damp hair as he fought the instinct to let his hands go of the rail, until eventually he was standing up straight with his legs apart and his balance perfected. After a few seconds of a bewildered expression, he grinned like a boy on Christmas morning.

"Whoever this friend was, they had some nerve." He said a little breathlessly.

"I wouldn't be here without them." I replied quietly, closing my eyes as the breeze cooled my face.

"Who was it?" Harry asked, carefully climbing down from the rail to sit beside me. The heels of his boots bounced off the wall below us, where traffic rushed by despite how late it was.

I sighed heavily. "Just someone I used to know." I breathed. Back then, Peter had been a different guy. Back then he was still finding his place as Spiderman, still making an image for himself. He'd been the boy I fell in love with, the stubborn bastard who cared more about having me in his arms than going out to save the world. The Peter of today was still the Peter I knew then, but as I had said to him, life got in the way.

Without meaning to, I rested my head on Harry's shoulder and closed my eyes. He said nothing, but nothing needed to be said. Under the armour we had made for ourselves, we were just two kids who had been screwed over. Tonight we could forget, just for a while, until the sun rose and brought reality with it. Tomorrow I would think about what I would do about Martha, and warn Peter about Harry, and I would also think of a plan to get Oscorp off my case. Tomorrow was when the problems began and escalated, but tonight was the time to shut myself off with the only other person who understood me utterly and completely. Beyond the hard shells of defiance, we could find a friendship deeper than that of an ordinary one.

Tomorrow could wait.

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**Little side note, I was listening to the ASM2 soundtrack and the one called We're Best Friends is what I think would really go with the bit towards the end of this chapter, what do you guys think? :P**

**Also, while this chapter focusses on Harry and Claudia, the next following will focus on her relationships with Peter and Gwen (I haven't forgotten her, don't worry;))**

**Don't forget to review!**


	14. Beams of Light

**Woop! I'm on a role with updating! Here's chapter 14, which is a nice one for you all since you've been so lovely to me ;) As for those of you rooting or Harry and Claudia, I wouldn't think all is lost just yet - these two have a lot more scenes to come up from now on, just not in the way you think...**

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Two days later, when I was walking home from my morning shift at work, I felt him coming towards me before I could turn around. The air shifted, people around me stopped and turned despite us being in the middle of a zebra crossing. When I did turn to look, he was already a blue and red blur falling impossible fast right at me. Huge white eyes locked onto me, and in the second it took me to stop walking and the people around me to jump out of the way, I was snatched up and into the air.

I clung to Peter as the breath was knocked out of me. His arm was securely around my waist, locking me to him in an iron grip like I weighed nothing at all. His warmth swam into me, melting all the ice that threatened to freeze my heart. I'd been waiting to come across him, because there was no doubt that he wanted to confront me about the other night. I also needed to tell him about Harry, but since then I had been more focussed on getting my head cleared so that I could concentrate on the bigger matters at hand. I knew it wouldn't take long for Peter to find me, and I also knew he wouldn't give me much room for escape once he did. I'd been counting on it.

We moved so fast through the air that I was deafened by the breeze. My stomach would jump into my mouth each time me plummeted towards the ground, only to drop to my toes when we flew towards the heavens. We moved so fast that I wasn't even afraid of being watched, because it would be impossible to tell who it was that Spiderman had in his grasp. For a few moments I just allowed myself to be exhilarated by the experience of flying, reminded of the days when Peter and I had been together and happy.

We landed on the tall rooftop of a building far away from Oscorp, which looked down on New York in disdain. Peter set me safely on the ground, giving me a moment to get my head together. I jogged around to get the shaking out of my legs while I pinched my nose, blowing so that I could pop my ears. Peter stood like he was completely unaffected, snatching his mask off as he watched me. I looked at him with cautious eyes, taking in the tired circles under his eyes and the grim line on his lips. I felt suddenly uneasy, unsure of what to say.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded quietly, stepping towards me. "Why didn't you tell me you'd been threatened? I could have _helped _you."

I shook my head, my heart drumming uneasily in my ears. "I couldn't. You're in trouble, too. They're watching me because they're suspicious of you—"

"I know, I've just been to see Harry, he told me everything." he cut in, closer now, the wind ruffling his already wild hair. "And when I say everything, I mean _everything. _About you, abut Oscorp watching me, hell, even about him _dying._" I stepped back, coming up against the wall attached to the rooftop door that led into the building. Peter closed in on me like a shark, the shadow closing around his face making his eyes glint. "Not only is my best friend dying, but the one girl I truly love is in danger and she said _nothing. _I don't know what to do!"

"There's nothing you can do." I said in a broken voice. "Everything is too big for us now. You can't save everyone, Peter, especially when you let your feelings take over you mind."

"Of course I let my feelings take over! The reason I became Spiderman is because I let my feelings control me, the reason I ended things between us is because I knew my feelings were getting in the way; I'm only human, Claudia!"

"So am I!" I snapped. "Do you think you're the only one who wants to be a hero? I want to save everyone around me because I'm a ticking time bomb! Every step that I take leaves a raging fire behind, everything I touch turns to dust. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd get yourself hurt trying to help me! I don't w_ant _that, Peter; I don't want anyone else I love to get hurt!" I felt myself getting so angry and defensive that I couldn't stop talking. I just kept going until my chest hurt, until my eyes burned with years. "Do you know why I told Harry and not you? _Because he's just like me! _He's so broken inside that everything else looks like it's on fire; he thinks that life is out to destroy him. He has nothing left! I told him everything because I know that even if he does do something to get himself hurt, he won't care because he has no one left who cares about him; he won't hurt anyone if he hurts himself."

Peter stood there, completely ashen with surprise. "Are you saying that you don't care about what happens to you?"

"_Yes! _Granted, I'd want to avoid that so as not to hurt anyone else, but if it came down to it then I would give everything up if it meant the ones I loved were safe. I'm pushing you away and keeping you out of my life because I _care too much, Peter! _I tried to push you away before but you had none of it; you ending things just made everything a helluva lot easier for me. And if you knew everything, then you should be doing the right thing right now; _staying away from me. _I may be the bomb, but you are the flame that is threatening to make me explode."

"I'm not abandoning you, Claudia." He growled, so close now that I could feel his body heat. "I may have ended things, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving you; if anything, the time away from you has made me love you all the more. You have _ruined_ me. Being with you is too dangerous, but being apart from you is threatening to drive me insane. So even if I wanted to stay away from you, I never could because you are the only one who has the power to shatter me just by saying my name."

"Then you'll be the one to ruin my life." I snarled. I was trying to be bitter in the attempt to make him leave, but instead he did the opposite. Pressing his body up against mine, locking me to the wall, he dipped his head and caught my gaze in his. His eyes shone with all kinds of emotions; anger, grief and love, all at the same time.

"Everything is falling apart for me, too. Everything I knew about my parents was a lie, Aunt May told me. She told me that my dad left because he was in it for the money, that his involvement with Oscorp resulted in a discovery beyond anything else thought to be possible. So he abandoned his son with his wife to live a wealthy life, only to be killed for it. On top of that, Gwen is probably going to be out of the country by next week and may never come back, Harry is losing himself and is out for my blood to save himself even though it could kill him, and you are running around trying to protect yourself and your sister even though you can't do it on your own.

"But I will never let you do it on your own, no matter how hard you try to push me away. You and I are knit and you know it; I'm yours and you're mine. I once told you that I would be here for as long as you wanted me. You're trying to push me away, but I know you don't want to. So guess what? _I'm not going anywhere._"

"Then you're an idiot." I snapped, tears streaming down my face. He grinned, but it was pained.

"I'm _your_ idiot." he said. "So do me a favour and just deal with it."

And then, for the second time that week, his mouth was on mine. I could taste both his tears and mine as he fiercely kissed me, white his arms wrapped around me in an angry blanket of heat. His gloved hands were everywhere, searing the skin under my shirt, pulling me closer and closer until it felt like we were becoming one. His lips worked mine so desperately that I thought mine would bruise, but I didn't care. He shattered every bit of willpower I had built over the last few agonising weeks, knocking it down like a child having a tantrum. Again, I didn't care.

We kissed until it hurt. It was a kiss like no other, filled with pain, distrust and anger, fuelled by weeks of frustration. It was a kiss I would remember for the rest of my life, right down to the finest details. I would remember the smell of his frustration, bitter in my nostrils, while his teeth bit down on my lower lip hard enough to make me moan. I would remember my hands on the nape of his neck, my nails almost clawing into his skin as I tried to pull him closer. I would remember the pain and the bliss moulded into one, binding us together while everything else fell apart.

When he pulled away, he was practically panting. "Do you get it, now?"

"I get that you're a stubborn, stupid pain in the ass." I said with equal breathlessness. He chuckled against my throat. I shuddered against him.

"Oscorp can try to destroy us, but _try _is the operative word. We're in this together, remember?"

"But Martha—"

"Martha's strong and she's smart, especially after everything with Hammond. We'll try and keep her out of everything as best we can, but if it comes down to it, I know for a fact that that woman has one hell of a fight in her, just like you." He smiled softly. "You're the Thatchers; the Thatchers never stop fighting."

I smiled, resting my forehead against his chest, holding him in my arms. "What are you gonna do about Harry?"

A frustrated groan rumbled in his chest. "I don't know. He asked me to 'find' Spiderman so he could ask for his blood. I tried to reason with him that it could be dangerous, but I think he's too far gone to listen."

"You'll have to hurt him." I sighed sadly.

"Like you said, I can't save everyone. I need more time if I'm to help him." He sighed again, an incredibly sad sound. "He's going to hate me."

"He'll hate Spiderman." I corrected.

"I hate lying to people." he murmured into my hair.

"Just do what you have to." I said. "Maybe I could talk to him, maybe I could bide you more time."

"You can try," he whispered, "but don't hold your breath."

We stood quietly for a long, long time, spent of words. I listened to the steady beating of his heart, finding it amazing how such a simple sound could give me so much solace. Eventually my mind travelled to Gwen, wondering where she was and if she was okay. I felt an ache for my best friend after not seeing her for several days; the one other thing that could comfort me into a numb state was her laugh and her arms around me.

"Let's find Gwen and see if she has any ideas." I said at last.

"You want to drag her into this?" Peter said a little uncertainly, pulling back to look at my face. I shook my head quickly.

"No, I'm not going to tell her about Oscorp. We just need to ask her if she has any ideas about what to do for Harry, but more importantly, I just want my best friend back."

A few moments passed before Peter's face smoothed in a gentle smile. "Alright." He said, gathering me up in his arms. He snuck his hand into my jeans pocket, tugging free my phone and holding it between us. I took it, searching for Gwen's number. Before I hit the call button, I looked back up at Harry.

"You're not going to leave me again?" I asked.

He smiled, giving me a single kiss, before saying, "Never again."

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When we found Gwen, she was already waiting in the small café we'd agreed to meet at. Peter was now dressed in a pair of jeans, t-shirt and open hoodie as he strolled in behind me, no trace of Spiderman in sight. I couldn't help but look around cautiously, wondering if we were being watched, but the moment I saw Gwen's blonde hair and grey eyes, all fears went away. She had that kind of power in her. Gwen Stacy could make the most insane of men feel safe and at home just by a simple hello and a smile. She was that kind of girl who made everyone feel at ease, her personality so likeable that it was hard to imagine her with any enemies. Her innocence reminded me a lot of Martha before the death our parents, which made my urge to protect her all the more urgent. While I was mostly upset that she was leaving, I was glad that she would be safely out of the country so that she could carry on with her life.

Once we'd ordered out coffees, I sat beside Gwen while Peter sat opposite. Together we quietly explained the situation about Harry, as well as the true behind Peter's parents. However, as I listened to the story about Richard and Mary Parker, I found all of it hard to believe. They'd left for a reason, but s traitors? No, I didn't believe it for one moment. I felt towards Peter the pain he must have been going through, having already made up his mind. It had to be wrong; anything associated with Oscorp just wasn't that simple.

Gwen listened quietly, but the crease in her brow resembled the same doubt I felt. However she didn't speak of them. There didn't seem to be any point now that Peter was convinced of something that felt like a lie. All she could do was sit quietly and listen, just like a good friend would do.

When the topic of Harry arose, Gwen became more alert than before. We explained everything about the death of his father and the genetic illness that had caused it, finished with his need for Spiderman's, or Peter's, blood.

"You can't give it to him." she said the moment we were done. "It could kill him."

"I know." I said. "But he's not listening. He's desperate."

"Desperate or not, god knows what it could do to him. You have to tell him no." she said defiantly.

"Any ideas on how to break it gently to him?" Peter asked. "He's my oldest friend, I don't want to hurt him anymore than I have to."

"Just tell him the truth, but you can't predict his reaction." Gwen said. "Desperate people can do things beyond their control. Whether you like it or not, he's probably going to hate you for a while until he understands the dangers of what he's asking you to do. He may even resent you, and not just… you know, your alter ego. If he thinks you're connected to that side of you in any way, he'll probably resent you for it."

"That's what I was afraid of." Peter sighed, burying his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Peter." Gwen said softly, reaching out to touch his arm tenderly. "There's nothing else you can do. Let's just hope he understands."

"Doubtful." I muttered over the rim of my coffee mug.

With the decision on what to do about Harry finalised, we dropped all serious talk and spoke more like the teenagers we were. Gwen explained about her interview in a couple of days for the scholarship in Oxford, and while the fist in my gut clenched so tightly I almost gasped, I was still happy for her. She was bright, like the sun breaking through the clouds of a glum day, so she deserved to have her life take her to bigger and better things. Maybe one day she would come back, preferably when everything had calmed down. Until then, I listened to her and silently hoped that she lived all of the dreams she deserved.

And then we were laughing and joking, letting go. I was reminded of why it was these two who saved me from myself just a year ago and why it was I loved them so much. Peter was right; I couldn't survive on my own, not anymore. They were my family as well, blood or no blood. They were the beamed of light there to guide me when everything else went dark.

When we went to go our separate ways once more, I relished in the warmth of my best friend as she hugged me. White Peter was the boarder-line of safety and recklessness in my life, Gwen was the umbrella that sheltered me from the rain that threatened to drown me at any given moment. Things wouldn't be the same when she was gone, but to know she was somewhere in the world was enough to know that I'd still be able to carry on; besides, there was social networking like Skype, so I would hardly be out of touch with her. Still that didn't stop me from memorising her, from the smell of her strawberry shampoo to her many shades of grey in her eyes. Gwen was more than just a best friend. She was the sister that Martha once was, the ghost of my past that reminded me that while everything was different now, it didn't mean all was lost. Knowing that was enough to keep me going.

I just prayed that fate wasn't out to shatter me like it was out to shatter Harry Osborn.

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**Have you been dragged into a small safety blanket yet? I'd make the most of it if I were you;)**


	15. Balance

**Another glimpse into Harry's mind coming your way!**

**I do apologise for any mistakes as one of you pointed out, but it's because I type fast and then by the end of it I can't be bothered to read over it again :P**

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When Harry first met Martha Thatcher, he felt a strange sense of responsibility for her. He remembered the pictures that had been used when she and Claudia had been the highlights of the news, completely different to what she looked like now. In the media she had been the picture of an angel, with delicate coils of blonde hair and shimmering blue eyes and a smile to make even the cruellest of humans bow down in adoration. She'd been a model without the sex appeal, where she was loved and not wanted by the public, which made the grief of her situation a lot heavier. She was so unlike Claudia, all sunlight while her sister was the night sky glittered with stars. He'd never imagined he would meet the famous sisters when he was outside of New York, so the only thing he could do back then was send his silent pity.

But now, as he stood in the hallway outside of the Thatcher's apartment, his pity grew. Claudia wasn't the only one who was damaged. Martha lacked the coils in her luscious hair, which was now straight and dull under the artificial light. Her eyes looked more grey than blue, unkind as they looked at him. While once she had been all curves, now she was unnervingly skinny, her cheekbones too sharp and the circles under her eyes too dark. This was not the sister everyone had idolised for her bravery just under a year and a half ago. This was a sister truly broken up over life's cruelty.

"Yes?" she all but hissed at him, allowing the door open just wide enough to fit her frame into it, blocking any kind of entrance.

"Miss Thatcher?" Harry said with a small swallow. "I'm Harry Osborn, I was wondering if Claudia was in?"

"Why?"

"I'm a friend of hers."

"She's never said anything about you." Martha said suspiciously, glaring with all kinds of distrust in her eyes.

This didn't surprise Harry. Claudia seemed hardly the type to brag about making new friends, especially when said friends were people like him. He didn't feel offended, not in the slightest. After what she'd been through, it was hardly a wonder that Claudia would keep Martha in the dark. Harry was a potential danger to them, so the less Martha knew the better.

It occurred to him that coming here was probably very selfish of him. He'd been sure that he hadn't been followed before arriving, but that didn't mean the risk wasn't still there. Would he be able to forgive himself if something were to happen here and now resulting in the injury of Martha? In truth, he probably would. He'd given up on the word forgiveness long ago. He didn't _want_ anything to happen, but if it did, he'd probably get over it in a week or so. For all he knew he'd be dead in a week, anyway.

Harry cleared his throat and made himself appear friendly with painful effort. Martha should have considered herself lucky, since friendliness was almost beyond him now. Maybe that's why he found himself on Claudia's door; he needed to be in the presence of someone who understood him, even if it was only a little bit.

"I'm also a friend of Peter Parker." he pressed with a charming smile.

Martha stared at him for a tense further few moments, determining whether to trust him. "If that's true, why are you here looking for Claudia when she's already out with Peter?"

"I wasn't aware that she was." Harry said innocently, while deep down his stomach twisted with mild resentment. Why was Peter out with Claudia when he should have been searching for the web crawler? Had their conversation meant nothing to him this morning? Beyond that, however, he felt a twinge of something else, a snap inside him that was a wire among many that threatened his detonation. It was a feeling that didn't quite match with jealousy, but it was very close. The idea of Claudia running back to Peter made him burn with something dangerous, something dark threatening to overshadow him. _Peter was too good for someone so damaged. _

Claudia didn't deserve someone good, not in Harry's eyes. She was just like him; why should she get the sugar coating of life and leave him with everything sour? It wasn't _fair_!

But Harry buried these thoughts deep down and shrugged to Martha. "I guess I'll be on my way; I apologise if I intruded on anything."

He turned to leave when Martha's voice stopped him. "Why would you want to be friends with Claudia?"

_Isn't that the question of the day? _Why did he want Claudia's friendship? Even Harry knew it was more than because she was like him. There was something so lusciously _wrong _about her that she was fascinating. Harry had often wondered what it would take to make her snap since meeting her, and what she would be like once she did snap. Sure she'd witnessed the deaths of her parents, which had no doubt ruined her in one form, but that was what grief did; grief reveals humans for who they truly are underneath. People can go a lifetime wearing a mask over their personalities and not know who they truly are, but if you rip away someone dear to them like a son or daughter, or a mother and father, in a vicious way, grief will tear away the colourful wrapping and expose the rotten truth to the rest of the world. Claudia had revealed herself to the world, as had Martha. But what would happen if someone else was torn away from her? What would happen if, say, Martha died in her arms?

Some people without anything to live for would just end their lives. He wondered if Claudia would do that. Or would she get revenge? Even better, would she fall into the black pit of despair and become as despicable as those who had ruined everything else around her?

It was that unknown factor about Claudia that drew Harry in. It was the question of whether she would shatter or whether she would snap. He imagined that Claudia Thatcher could be very, _very _dangerous if she was pushed too far, and that idea alone not only triggered his need for her friendship, but also ignited a lust inside him that felt more like a disease.

He didn't like her in that way, he found her attractive but he didn't like her. This became more and more clear to him the more he thought about it. However, _want _was a whole other kettle of fish. He didn't want her body or her touch or her kiss; no, he wanted her anger, the shadows under her skin, the fury in her eyes. He wanted everything twisted and vile and sharp that poisoned her to merge with him, to be his to caress and understand. People like Claudia could never be contained with love and adoration. Love was strong, but hate was stronger.

"You say that like you don't want Claudia to have friends." Harry said, turning around to face the older, wearier Thatcher. He smiled pleasantly, and she glared in return.

"She doesn't do friends."

"Are Peter and Gwen Stacy not her friends, then?"

"They're different."

"Yeah? Enlighten me on how." Harry raised a brow in mockery to the blonde, challenging her, wondering how willing she was to confront him head on. It wasn't that he wanted to mock her; if anything, he found himself admiring her. It was easy to tell that the girl from the media would never have been as bitter as this young woman who stood in front of him. Damn, these Thatcher girls were brilliantly captivating!

Martha remained defiant. "They're good people." she spat.

"You don't even know me and you're making accusations that I'm not a good person?" he laughed softly.

"Yes," Martha said through gritted teeth.

"You say that Peter and Gwen are different and that they're good people." Harry said. "Does that mean you don't think Claudia's a good person?"

Martha blinked. "What are you—?"

"It's just the way you said it. You said your sister doesn't do friends, but that the two friends she has are good people." Harry cut in, taking a step towards the blonde. "Now why wouldn't you want _me_ to be a friend of hers?"

He knew the answer, but he couldn't help but make her squirm. He wanted the anger swim in her eyes, battling with herself. "She doesn't need people like you in her life."

"And what am I, exactly?"

"The opposite of a good person." Martha growled. Harry grinned.

"A little like Claudia, then?" he asked. Martha said nothing. "Did you ever think that too much good could be bad for a person like her, like _you_?" Harry inquired. "You can wrap a safety blanket around her as tightly as you like, shield her with all these _good people, _but did you ever think of what consequences that might have?" He stepped closer. "Good can only protect those you love for so long, but when everything goes to hell, think about what that might do to her. Think about what it would do if that ray of sunlight was blacked out by a cloud full of rain, hail, thunder and lightning. Imagine what that would do to her." He took another step, and Martha stared at him with rage and fear swimming in her eyes. "You can keep the dream alive with _good people, _but it will never hurt to have a dose of bad to keep the balance." he murmured. "That way, when the dream ends, the nightmare will be less of a shock."

"Get lost." Martha growled, but her voice trembled.

"I was just about to go." Harry smiled pleasantly. "Let Claudia know I stopped by."

With that he turned on his heel and took his leave, smiling devilishly. He liked Martha almost as much as he liked Claudia. A funny thought came to mind. The phrase 'the death of me' applied well with the Thatcher sisters, and they would probably be the death of each other; Martha was trying to protect Claudia from herself while Claudia was trying to protect Martha from society and the pain that came with it. Such motivations would no doubt collide in the long run, which could go one way or the other. As far as Harry was concerned, however, he didn't want the Thatchers to vanish from New York completely.

No, New York was a far more fun city with those two still in it.

* * *

When I got home, Martha was pacing the apartment like a stressed animal. I was stunned enough that I froze in the doorway, waiting for her to notice my surprise. She didn't turn around until she heard the click of the door shutting behind me. The anger and fear in her eyes instantly had me on high alert, my gaze darting around the apartment in search of an intruder. I could feel every muscle in my body tensing, ready for a fight, instinct taking over logical thought. Martha practically ignored this as she marched towards me, grabbing my shoulders none to gently.

"I want you to stay away from that Harry Osborn." she said before I could even get my head straight. I tried to piece together her words in the fog of confusion, recollecting that she shouldn't have known that name, much less that I have found company with said name. I frowned at her.

"Harry Osborn? You met him?" I asked.

"He came here looking for you." she told me. "What you're doing hanging around a man like that is beyond me, but I want it to stop."

"Did he hurt you?" I said automatically, scanning her for any kind of injury before my anger could clog my better judgement. She quickly shook her hair.

"No, no, but it was the things he said, things he assumes about us—"

"Martha, slow down! What did he come here for? What did he want?"

"He didn't say what he wanted; just that he was looking for you. He wasn't here for any longer than five minutes before I sent him away. Claudia, what are you doing with a young man like that?" She looked so distressed that all I wanted to do was hug her, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. What the hell had Harry been thinking by coming here? Was he _insane_? I couldn't think about what he might or might not have said, only that the fact he was here without me knowing was crossing a line. My fists clenched with the sudden need to strangle him.

"I honestly thought you and Peter would work things out—" Martha said, and that unfinished line was enough to bring me back to the situation at hand.

I stared at her, astonished. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. Are you trying to say you think I'm seeing _Harry_ _Osborn_?"

"Are you?"

"_No! _Oh, God no! Holy Christ, why would you even think that? As a matter of fact, Peter and I have worked things out today! Yeah, that text I sent you telling you where I was this morning? _I was getting back together with Peter. _Whatever ridiculous thoughts you have about Harry and me need to be dropped out of your mind _right now._"

She pinched her nose, breathing heavily. "Thank God." she breathed.

I shook my head, refraining myself from laughing at her so that I could ask her a more serious question. "Moving on, what exactly did he say to you?"

She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "Just things… things about you. Things about whether you needed good people in your life…" She pinched her nose and sighed in frustration. "He thinks that too much good in your life could be bad for you."

I felt myself stiffen before she had even finished the sentence. A cold chill ran down my spine, fuelled by reluctant realisation and sizzling fury. How _dare _he? How _dare _he come to my home uninvited and say things like that to my sister? Furthermore, who was he to plant doubts about me into my sister's head? He was one son of a bitch!

"How long ago did he come over?" I asked a little too harshly.

"About an hour ago." Martha answered, watching me with wary eyes.

I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Peter demanding for Harry's mobile number. Martha watched me with confusion in her eyes, taking a moment to understand what I was doing. When I turned to go to the door, she instantly reached out to snatch my wrist.

"Claudia, wait! Where're you going?" she said in an almost pleading voice, her eyes glittering.

I didn't answer, too furious to think of any words. I pulled my wrist free and yanked open the door, slamming it shut behind me just as Peter replied with Harry's number.

I dialled it, and it rang twice before a slow, cocky voice answered. "Yeah?"

"Remember that alley you found me in the other night? Meet me there in ten." I spat, hanging up on him before he could even reply.

When I got there, he was already waiting in the shadows. I stormed right up to him, blind with rage, and when he came to meet me half way I slammed my palms into his chest. His back collided with the wall as a small _oof _fell breezily from his lips. While he was dazed, I grabbed the front of his shirt and rammed him into the wall again, smacking his head against the brick.

"Who the _hell _do you think you are?" I snarled as viciously as I could, smashing him against the wall for a third time. "How _dare _you go to my home and talk to my sister, saying things to frighten her! _Why would you do that?!"_

His fingers curled around my wrists and squeezed, his nails threatening to tear open the skin. I fought the urge to wince. "I came looking for you. You weren't there, she asked questions and I answered."

"You've terrified her!" I shouted, trying to ram him yet again. He fought against me this time, pushing so that I was at arms-length. "Whatever you said has shaken her up, and I swear to God that that was a big mistake on your part!"

"Oh?" he said, an annoyed smile curving his mouth. "All I said was the truth."

"_The truth about what?!_"

"You." He pulled me in then, in a second grasping my wrists in one hand. He spun blindingly fast and pushed me against the wall for the second time that week, pinning me there like I was nothing more than a child. I struggled with all my might, almost screaming, and somehow I managed to slip one of my hands free. I slapped it across his cheek, making him yell before he caught it in his free hand. Before he could pin above my head, I managed to grab a fist full of his hair and pulled. His body moved with my hand, saving him from the pain, and in the end we stood in an awkward position of tangled limbs and heavy breathing.

"How does that feel?" he asked me in a laboured voice. "How does it feel to let out all that anger?"

"_I could tear you limb from limb." _I said through my teeth.

He grinned. "I agree. Let's be honest here, though, shall we? You're not just angry at me; you're angry at _everything. _Your parents, Oscorp, the incident in Times Square, Gwen leaving, Peter being complicated, the threat hanging over you and Martha—the list goes on." He grunted when I pulled even harder on his hair. "All I said to Martha was that you can't be shielded away by something good when everything around you is falling apart."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, loosening up a little, taken aback by his words.

"Let's face it; you're not a saint, and neither am I. But c'mon, you can't pretend to live a happy, perfect life the way you do, it's infuriating. _This_—" he gestured between us with a shaking hand before re-grabbing the hand on his hair, "This is the real you, right? This is what happens when you get too wound up?"

"Oh, honey, this is nothing."

"Exactly." He smiled like he was proud of me. "And I bet that when you go to sleep tonight, you'll rest easier without that weight of anger pulling you down."

I released him, suddenly fearful of how true his words were. It was like going back to the time shortly after my parents' deaths, when everything had seemed so bleak and not worth tenderness. I used to go out at night and cause havoc just so I wouldn't have a load of frustration rippling inside me. After Peter and Gwen, I'd assumed that those days were over and that I could carry on as myself, but with Harry it seemed that that wasn't true. I hadn't changed. Nothing had changed. The last year had just been a distraction, and now Harry was claiming my true attention to what was real.

He released me when he was sure I wouldn't lunge for him again, stepping back. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Claudia, I'm just trying to make you see who you really are. I'm trying to get you out of the lie you've created."

"What if I wanted to stay in that lie?" I whispered, watching him edge away from me.

"Then you're naïve."

"And what are you?"

"A realist." he told me. "Live a lie for as long as you want, but soon you'll have to wake up."

And without another word he was on his way, slipping his hands into his pockets and whistling merrily. I stared at his back, aghast at both him and myself. What terrified me more wasn't Oscorp, or even Max Dillon, but the truth behind Harry's words.

* * *

**Be sure to review your thoughts!**


	16. Animal

**Guys, we hit the 100 mark in reviews! *High five* :D Thank you very, very much!**

**Oh, one of you made my day today with potential ship names :') Paudia and Clarry anyone? Thanks for the idea fellow reviewer!**

**Anywho, I'll let you get on, and ps, Claudia's a bit of a bad ass in this one...**

* * *

I stayed there for a long time dwelling on what Harry had told me. His words ran through my head like an infection, spreading throughout my body and killing off anything good slowly and painfully. I tried to pinch myself in order to feel something, _anything, _than the throbbing numbness that was taking over me in those moments.

How could I have been so blind? Of course nothing was okay. Of course my life wasn't something of sunshine and rainbows—why had I alluded myself into thinking it could be that way? Could one rekindled kiss with Peter really make all the bad go away? Could one warm hug from Gwen truly melt all the ice in my heart? Could a repaired and stronger relationship with my sister really make up for the spillage of our parent's blood? To a dreamer that did sound like it was enough, but really it was just an undercoat of paint before any real change could take place.

The girl who had stood on the rooftop that night was still alive inside me. I could feel her now, grinning behind the walls I had built. I could feel her hate and distrust rippling in my blood, just waiting to escape. I thought back to the night in Times Square, two nights after the attack. What had that builder said? _I see Hell in your eyes. _That night the real me had surfaced, blank faced and uncaring, and I'd been too blind to see it. Apparently I couldn't even tell the dark from light anymore.

My head began to hurt as all the bad events rose to the surface; mom and dad, my attempted suicide after months of social isolation, abuse from Rick Hammond, a beating in a dark alley, Rick beating me close to death, Rick kidnapping Martha. And then, after a year, more things were being added to the list; Max Dillon attacking me, Oscorp keeping me and everyone I love under surveillance, Martha at risk, and even damn Harry Osborn making an entrance. The load was so heavy on my shoulders that I physically sank to the ground, my knees unable to bear the weight. How was a seventeen year old meant to recover from all of that, really? Martha was barely coping with the first load, so to almost double that… what was that doing to me without me even realising?

Try as hard as I might to believe I was happy, I obviously wasn't. All this time I thought I'd been saved; I thought Martha, Gwen and Peter had saved me from myself. They'd made me believe that everything was okay. They almost had. They'd caught me in netting mid-fall, but now Harry was beginning to snip away at the threads. While I feared the hole that was growing and threatening me into a further, more lethal decent, I almost found myself hanging on to Harry's words; _And I bet that when you go to sleep tonight, you'll rest easier without that weight of anger pulling you down._

Falling was not only a danger, but it was also exhilarating and oh so _easy. _It was like a rollercoaster, never knowing what was zipping past you, the entire world a blur, while the knot in your stomach and the pounding of your heart was enough to make you feel alive. Falling was like releasing the anger wedged deep inside. Like crying, it made you deflate and loosen, clearing your mind until you had nothing left to think about. Screaming at someone who had done you wrong is like pulling the plug on dirty water, and violence? Violence made the weak feel empowered, in control of any given situation. I remembered that feeling just after mom and dad died.

Being angry was like making up for doing nothing as they died. Turning cold got rid of the warmth their blood had left on my hands. Dying a little inside helped me get closer to them.

But I wasn't that person anymore. I _couldn't _be that person ever again. Martha needed me; shutting her out again would probably kill her. And I had Peter back, didn't I? He needed me, too. I needed to be stronger now that Gwen was leaving us; I had to keep it together. Harry could want me to be like him all he liked, but if he was weak enough to give up on hope then that was his problem. No, I wasn't going to be that girl again. I'd found my path; Harry had to find his on his own.

But it seemed that fate was out for my blood—or my sanity.

As I rose to my feet, recollecting myself after however long ago Harry had left, I came to understand that I wasn't alone. At the end of the alley that led back onto the busy streets, four shadows stood. Men, dressed in alarmingly familiar black suits, their badges glinting in the sunlight bouncing off the windows in the buildings around us. I didn't need to ask to know who they were. During my rage earlier, I hadn't checked to see if anyone had been following me, and I was sure that Harry's hasty departure would have raised suspicion. He was supposedly unaware of the watching eyes as far as Menken was concerned, so they had no reason to bother him just yet. But me? Well, I was a beating red target begging to be shot down.

"Miss?" one of them called out. I didn't move. "We'd like you to come with us."

"Piss off." I snarled.

"You know who we are, you know why you're wanted, so just make things easier for all of us." the same guy pressed, all four of them edging further into the alley. People out in the open streets remained oblivious, effectively obscuring both their identities and mine. That's the thing about New York; anyone who lives here never sees anything. You watch a crime show, and ask all the witnesses at the seen if they saw something odd, only about one in ten steps forward. Knowing that I was more than likely going to be on my own for this, I cracked my knuckles in preparation for a fight.

Last time I had been caught off guard and panicked, unable to think properly. This time I had _plenty _to think about, and I was more than ready to act on it. The darker version of myself sizzled with excitement, and considering this was going to be one hell of a struggle, I was more than willing to let her out of her cage and bite until they bled. I'd had just about enough of this crap.

"Claudia, be rational…" another of them said, even though he too was cracking his fingers. He spoke like I was a child, getting me more and more riled up.

"I am being rational." I said calmly. "This is probably the most rational I am ever going to get." I took a confident step forward. "Menken has me under surveillance, so I'm going to give him something to look at." My voice dropped to a snarl, vicious as a panther.

"Your funeral, girly."

Everything slowed down as I focussed. I heard one single crack of bone in my ears as everything around me slowed, allowing me time to piece everything together. After everything with Hammond, both me and Martha had researched fighting techniques, and Peter had taught me fighting moves should I ever need them. Step one in this scenario was to target the leader of the four men, who appeared to be the one hanging out in the rear as his cronies darted towards me. In the brief seconds I had, I decided to treat this as a video game, where the three guys coming at me were the level before the fight with the boss. Once the boss was out of the way, then that would be my cue to run.

Knowing my ultimate aim, I spread my legs to balance my weight. I remained close to the wall, enabling me to keep my opponents within my line of vision; Peter had told me to never let anyone out of my sight, or I would end up getting flanked and restrained before any fight could ensue.

The first guy was on me in an instant. He made to grab for me, apparently not believing I had a fight in me because of my dainty size. He went to grab for my waist, to which I responded by dropping almost completely to the ground. I swung out my leg, swiping it under his to knock him to the ground. He seemed so dazed that when I delivered a kick to his gut, he coiled in on himself and yelled out in pain.

Not half a second later I was on my feet and ducking from a punch by opponent number two. He lost his balance when his fist missed, his feet too close together. Taking this opportunity, I drew up my knee to his crotch while swinging a punch into his throat, knocking him to the ground as well.

"Son of a bitch!"

I swung around to defend a third punch. Pain ran up my forearm that deflected the blow, but it didn't make me recoil; if anything, it woke me up. The guy kicked my feet out from under me, cursing savagely under his breath. I landed on my tailbone, almost yelping in pain, but instead I whipped my feet up and kicked him viciously in the kneecap. His legs buckled, making him fall. I reached out to grab his hair. The punch I delivered to his face left a sprinkling of red spraying out of his nose and gums.

Fingers grabbed my arms from behind, almost tearing into my skin. I screamed, jumping to loosen any real grip. Swinging in mid-air, I kicked out and caught my attacker in the face, who was already on his knees. He spluttered out blood as his head flipped back, a knock-out blow.

The first guy I had flawed was back on his feet, grabbing me from behind around the throat. He squeezed, crushing my airways. I had just about seven seconds until I passed out. My vision began to pulse right before my eyes as I struggled for air. Instead of panicking, however, I ducked my chin into the guy's arm and lifted my shoulders, relieving the pressure just a little. Opening my mouth, I managed to bite down on his arm, practically gnawing through his sleeve. He yelled, loosening all the more. My hands worked his arm, my nails digging into his wrist as I loosening it those further few precious inches.

Quickly, I released myself from my bite and spun. The guy moved to enclose me in his grip again. With all the strength I had, I kicked him in the shin while reaching up to grab his hair. I yanked, grabbed his gaze, and then slammed my forehead into the bridge of his nose.

He back-peddled while yelling out in pain. Tripping over his two wounded friends, he joined them in a heap on the ground.

"You _idiots!_" screamed their leader, who was alarmingly close. I swung around just in time to block several punches, ducking a final one until I barrelled myself into his middle. Both of us slammed to the ground. Snagging my hair, he reached up and butted me in the face; blood filled my mouth. Dazed but not entirely out of it, I in turn grabbed his hair and began to ram his head into the tarmac repeatedly, waiting for him to yell out in mercy. He didn't, but by the time the fourth blow came, his eyes had lost their focus as consciousness fell away from him.

Before he fell flat out, I took a glance at his badge. My eyes caught sight of the date, and while it may have been bloody, I grinned. "Happy Birthday, Stanford."

And then I did the number one rule in that kind of situation; I got the hell outta there.

I hadn't run as fast as this for a long time. The days of racing Peter were over, at least for now, so to be running made me feel weightless. Every muscle inside me tensed with building power as the adrenaline rode through my body, my instinct to escape stronger than anything else. It was like running to Martha again after Hammond had left me for dead, the only thing back then that had kept me going being the adrenaline in aid of a single motive. Then I had been almost beaten to death, having lost to a fight against one man, so to come running from a fight with four men and only get a split lip made me feel pretty invincible. I hated to imagine what my face looked like, and judging by the horrified faces around me it didn't look good, but I couldn't find anything inside me that cared.

I didn't see her until we slammed headlong into each other. The girl had been on her phone, invisible amongst the alarmed people around her. I had expected her to move so I'd snuck a glance over my shoulder—the next thing I knew I was gasping and landing horridly on my side. A phone clattered to the ground, as well as a handbag full of the typical rubbish; mascara, purse, keys, loose change. In a daze I had been meaning to just get up and run, but then her wide eyes caught mine.

Blue eyes met alarmed, timid hazel framed by a line of brunette bangs. Dressed like a young business woman yet she could have been no older than twenty two, her red lips parted in surprise as she looked at me. I recognised her almost instantly, even though I had only see her once before.

"Felicia, right?" I said, getting awkwardly to my feet. "Harry Osborn's assistant?"

"Right." she said quietly, quickly grabbing her things together and stuffing them in her handbag. "It's a privilege to meet the famous Claudia Thatcher at last." Was it me or did she sound bitter?

"Um… Thanks?"

"It _wasn't_ a compliment." she snapped.

I glared at her, completely affronted. "What's your problem?"

Seeming to take note of the blood on my face, she reached into her black handbag and pulled out a packet of tissues, shoving them into my hand. "No problem, I just care very little for you and your status."

"I don't have much of a status."

She eyed me like my face said otherwise. "The great teenager who rescued her sister from a money-crazed lunatic; what's not to love about that?" She rolled her eyes, fixing her bag on her shoulder.

"Jeez, sorry for being over idolised by the media, I'll try not to do a good deed next time." I snapped sarcastically, shoving past her.

"You do that." she called over her shoulder. "In fact, I'd stay hidden away for as long as possible."

I spun around, instantly exasperated with her when I hadn't even been in her presence for a full minute yet. "And what's _that _supposed to mean?"

"The less you know the better." Was all she said before she disappeared into the moving sea of people.

I was so wound up and exhilarated that her words washed completely over me like a breeze on a summer's day. It was something I would live regret.

* * *

When I got back home, Martha wasn't the only one waiting for me. Sitting on the sofa were Peter and Gwen, looking not exactly concerned but more curious. Apparently, by the clean look of innocence on Martha's face, she hadn't told them about the incident with Harry and why I had stormed after him. Despite the mutual expression, the fear and relief in her eyes was clear as day. She pretended to look as if she were disappointed, like she was expecting me to come home with something.

"Was the shop closed?" she asked. I blinked but quickly caught on.

"Yep." I said with a shrug, keeping my voice as natural as possible. Luckily I had wiped myself down before coming home, wiping away the bloody on my lips and chin. It hadn't been as bad as I thought; I'd looked like a somewhat mannered vampire, not too messy but not exactly appealing, either. The cut on my lip wasn't very severe, and was hard to notice unless you were looking for it. If all went well, Martha wouldn't have the slightest idea of what I'd been up to in the last hour or so.

Peter and Gwen wouldn't miss anything, though, and I braced myself for it. Gwen spoke up first. "I was wondering if I could borrow something from you? You have a jacket I was wondering if I could borrow for my interview tomorrow."

I closed my eyes for just a second too long but not long enough to look annoyed. "Sure," I said, walking towards my room. She hastily followed, accompanied by a nerdish grinning Peter who was obviously trying to keep his cool. Martha didn't seem to notice the unease; she was probably just happy to see the three of us together again in the apartment, especially after the morning she'd had. I could hardly blame her, really.

Gwen shut the door behind us too eagerly, shooting an adorable, angelic smile at my sister before blocking her from view. When she turned to face me, her eyes went from a warm sky blue to the icy depths of the ocean. "You have blood on your top."

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me, Claudia."

"I didn't do anything." I held up my palms, surrendering in a lie that I knew was worthless. Peter sat down slowly on my bed, watching me with careful eyes, probably trying to pinpoint any sign of injury. His eyes fixed on my lips, and not in an intimate way. Dammit.

"_Claudia. Evelyn. Thatcher._" Gwen practically snarled at me, transforming into one vicious lioness right before my eyes. I looked at Peter in the hopes that he would help me, wondering if he would be able to tell that I couldn't say the truth in front of Gwen. She didn't need to know. But she caught the look and something in her eyes blazed with fury. With a long sharp nail attached to a slightly shaking finger, she pointed to the space between me and Peter.

"Speak up." she snapped.

"Gwen—" Peter sighed, dropping his face into his hands.

"_No, _you two are not leaving me out of anything just because I'm probably leaving. _Your messes are my messes. _I will not let you both take me out to coffee and only give me minor details on things that are probably much bigger than that." Her pointing landed on me. "You haven't been yourself since I took you to Oscorp the day that Harry saved your backside. And _you,_" she turned on Peter, "are not going to defend her. I will _not _be a third wheel who remains oblivious to the messes you both get yourselves into!"

"Blondie—"

She shook her head at me, her eyes glittering with the threat of tears. "Whatever you're hiding, whatever you're not telling your sister, you can keep that quiet from her if you think it'll help her, but you are _not _keeping it from me. You're my best friend and I love you, so I refuse to let you shut me out even if you think it's for my own good. I _won't _let you! If I want to get myself into trouble with you then that's _my choice, _alright? _Mine!_"

"Okay, okay," I said gently, edging towards her to gather her in an embrace. She shook gently against me as I stroked her hair, quietly waiting for her to compose herself. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

I caught Peter's gaze over her shoulder, which was one of utter despair. He wanted to keep her out of things as much as I did, but like Gwen said, that just wasn't our choice to make if she was demanding answers. We wanted to keep her blissfully unaware so that she could live her new life happily, but then again if it were me, I'd want to know what kind of mess she was getting herself into. Everything that happened meant that we were in it together. I owed her that much.

"Alright," I whispered, watching Peter nod silently in agreement. "We'll tell you everything, every last bit. You won't like it, though."

She pulled back and smiled sadly. "Those are the best kinds, right?"

I smiled back. "Right."

* * *

Later, when the clock struck four in the morning, I was still wide awake with Peter's arms around me, keeping me snug into his chest. He was asleep, taking the night off for once to spend it with me, but I found no comfort in his warmth like I usually did. Gwen had left feeling a little lighter, despite the weight Peter and I had bestowed on her. I was right; half the stuff she didn't like, particularly my kidnapping and the most recent assault, but then again Peter hadn't been happy about that one, either. I pleaded for them to stay out of it unless it truly got out of hand, which led to Gwen tearfully agreeing while Peter had stayed stubbornly silent.

Gwen took everything else rather well, just grateful that she was no longer in the dark. She had said very little and instead embraced me, promising me that everything would be okay. I wanted to believe her, but Harry's words niggled away at me like ants around my brain. I'd said nothing about my encounters with Harry, but quite frankly I thought that what happened between me and him was our business alone. Peter wouldn't understand and would see Harry as being a nuisance. Maybe he was, but with a lot of desperation on his shoulders concerning his illness, he was probably being pushed to do irrational things just to make himself feel less alone.

That didn't mean I wasn't upset with him. What he had said had awakened new doubts in my mind, and this afternoon I had only gone and proved him right. If I had just ran from those guys today, I would have gone to sleep uneasy and angry. But now, knowing what I had done, I felt relaxed despite the lack of sleep. I tried to focus on Peter's warmth or his slow, even breath, even the feel of his limbs tangled with mine, but I found no sleep. I could rest easy, but sleep was evading me.

Instead I listened to the sound of Peter's heartbeat, all the way through to the crack of dawn.

* * *

**Again, thanks ever so much for reading, don't forget to review you wonderful people!**

**Ps sorry for any mistakes, its 2am and I'm too sleepy to check :P**


	17. Burn

**Thanks again everyone for reading, reviewing and following this story, its wonderful! Here's an extra long one for you all;)**

* * *

I woke from a very light sleep to Peter peppering kisses over the nape of my neck. His fingers were warm on my lower back, moving along my spine and pushing up my t-shirt along the way. I shifted with a moan, not completely conscious yet. He chuckled against my skin, nibbling lightly with his teeth while his hand circled around my ribs. I opened my eyes drearily, met by his body leaning over me as he kissed the curve of my throat to the bend of my shoulder.

He tugged me closer, folding me up against him while he moved so that he could press his mouth to mine. I sighed sleepily into the kiss, lazily wrapping my arms around his neck. Soon, however, he grew hungry; his hips hit mine as he rolled me onto my back, kissing me with deeper intention. I gasped with surprise by his sudden change of heart, but instead of recoiling I pulled him closer still.

When he moved to trail soft kisses on my neck, I managed to catch my breath with a silly grin. "Good morning to you, too."

He made a noise of acknowledgment, lighting teething my skin until he pulled a moan out of me. He moved to kiss my lips again while one of his hands knotted itself in my hair, the other trailing down my side, over my thigh until it stopped under my knee.

Heat spread through me like wild fire, from his touch to his taste. He pinned me down with his kiss in the most luscious of ways, like this was a kiss he had every intention of me remembering. It was a kiss filled with so much passion that no words could ever get close, while the sound of our laboured breaths and gentle sounds of pleasure spoke volumes. It occurred to me that he had never kissed me like this, never held me like this, but it was just too good that I couldn't find it in me to care – a part of me even thought I was dreaming. In that moment I just wanted him as close as possible, to kiss me until my lips bruised, to touch me until it felt like I was on fire, to hold me like everything would be okay. It was this that made me realise just how much I loved and wanted him, that I always would love and want him. This kiss was our forever, just us under the sheets tangled together while the morning sunlight splayed over us, welcoming us to a new, promising day.

Peter propped himself on his elbows above me, staring down. His fingers touched the skin of my chest and throat, which was slightly tender under his touch. Flashes of the guy with his arm around my neck flashed to mind, and I could only guess that my skin was bruised. Peter's warm eyes met mine.

"Yesterday?" he whispered in a low voice. Flustered and at a loss for words, all I could do was not. He smiled sadly and brushed a lock of hair out of my face. "You did what I told you to do if that ever happened?" I nodded again. "That's my girl." He bent down to lovingly kiss the bruises before he came to rest on my chest, his ear over where my heart thudded loudly. I snaked my arms around him and tugged him close, locking my legs around his. I kissed his hair repeatedly, soft and smelling of mint.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, moving my kisses his temple. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

"I am at the moment." he replied quietly, his voice rumbling from his chest into mine.

"And later?"

"I'll be less okay." He sighed heavily. "But that can wait. I just want to be here, here with you. Nothing else can ever touch us here."

I kneaded my fingers softly through his wild hair, closing my eyes as I let his warm body engulf me. "I'm sorry if I've ever hurt you. I'm sorry if I ever hurt you in the future." I murmured. "You're too good to get hurt so much."

"You've never hurt me, Claudia." Peter told me. "Not once. You make me feel so safe and sure of things. I don't just love you, you're a part of me; you make me whole." He moved back again to press his forehead against mine, his lips almost touching mine as he spoke. "That's why I need you to stop blaming yourself for things. I know you do, I see it in your eyes and it kills me. You are a _good person, _Claudia. I fell in love with every part of you, the good and the bad. I fell in love with your past and I will love whatever life has to offer for you in the future. I know that you think you ruin everything you touch, but you don't. You just make things burn brighter."

A tear slipped out of the corner of my eye. "Okay." Was all I said, and he kissed me until I thought my heart would explode. True to his word, I felt myself burn with every kiss, every touch, every sound. And he burned with me.

Peter slipped out of my window a couple of hours later, having had his fill of a kissing and embraces filled morning. He left with a goofy, flushed smile, his hair shamelessly messy – anyone would thing he had done more than just spend the morning making out with his girlfriend. But while he seemed satisfied, I didn't miss the concern in his eyes; he was going to tell Harry that he couldn't give him his blood, or at least Spiderman was going to tell him. As much as Harry was an enigma in my life right now, I couldn't help but pity the both of them. Harry had no one but Peter in his life, the best friend who had been the only one to welcome him back to New York. In turn, Peter was going to have to shatter all of the hopes and dreams his best friend had. The pain for both of them was inevitable.

Peter said he would text me once the deed was done. Going by the fear in his eyes, I told him I would go to Harry and talk to him; it was the least I could do. If Harry would listen to anyone, it would probably be me. After all, underneath the anger and desperation, Harry was just a young man who wanted to live his life like anyone else. After that, I hoped that Harry would drift out of my life as easily as he had gusted in. He and I were going to clash the longer we kept each other's company, and after yesterday I didn't want to see whether we would coincide or differ with disastrous consequences. Sometimes it was good to be the same, but other times it was just asking for trouble.

But for now I could remain light and refreshed. Having showered, dressed and eaten, I sat at the breakfast bar with a magazine on the table as I waited for the clock to hit ten o'clock, my cue to head to college. Martha was lurking, her eyes laced with teasing accusations. I avoided her gaze, feeling the blush creep along my cheeks, practically throwing me into the firing squad as a guilty criminal. Before long, Martha was grinning from ear to ear.

"Peter stayed over then?" she asked with the quirk of a blonde brow. I averted my eyes, frowning at the words of the magazine. "You think I wouldn't notice how flustered you were this morning?"

"Nothing happened." I snapped.

"No, but it's nice to see you… _happy _again." she said with a wink. I rolled my eyes.

"Maybe it's time you got a guy in your life again."

"After Rick? Fat chance of that happening." she said, reaching into the fridge to grab her lunch for later that day at work.

"C'mon, it doesn't have to be anything serious, just get back in the game. Besides, with me around, a guy is hardly going to mess with you." It was my turn to wink. "A little fresh romance could do you good."

"I have you to worry about, I don't need anyone else."

"You can't be on your own forever, you know." I said a little more gently. "Eventually I'll move out and start a life of my own, get married and all that. You should do the same." I smiled warmly. "Mom and dad would have wanted that."

She looked at me with terribly sad eyes. "I don't want to think about that yet."

I looked at her carefully. "What do you see ten years down the line?"

A thick silence passed over us chillingly. "Nothing." she whispered, disappearing into the bathroom. I watched her, feeling myself deflate; I was losing her.

Standing, I moved towards her when she reappeared out of the bathroom, and without a word I opened my arms to her. She entered them slowly, ducking her head to hide her eyes. I slowly closed my arms around her in a tight embrace, closing my eyes as I listened to her heartbeat. She was so warm and soft, so real in my arms, that it was hard to believe this wasn't the sister who read bedtime stories to me when I was six and under, who took me to the park every Sunday afternoon when I was between eight and eleven, who snuck me chewing gum without our parents noticing when I was twelve. That part of her was dead, and all I had left was a hollow shell disguised as my sister.

"You'll be okay." I murmured, kissing her cheek.

There was a pause before she pulled back to look at me. "I believe you."

* * *

By the time I finished my class at college, it was pushing for four in the evening. Gwen found me at the gates and asked me to walk with her, which I did without question. She was dressed rather smartly, all blazer and business skirts, so I knew where she was going before I even had to ask. It made me feel sick, if only a little, but then again I wasn't going to make her change her mind.

"It's your interview, I'm guessing?" I said as we walked the busy streets.

She smiled softly. "Yeah – I was hoping you'd offer some moral support."

"There's no robots at this place, is there?" I said with a small grin, remembering our conversation about robots in Oscorp not that long ago. She giggled, linking her arm in mine. "Nope, not that I know of."

"There is a God!"

We giggled together, just two friends blending in with everyone else around us. For once, we weren't important. We didn't draw attention to ourselves, we weren't being followed by men in black suits, and we weren't getting kidnapped by villains or superheroes. It was just us, Gwen and Claudia, here and now. Nothing else mattered.

When we got to the place in which her interview was taking place, I felt like I was stepping to a building that was the secret HQ of either a great cooperation or something out of a MI5 movie. The smell of books lingered in the air, books and tea, and I suddenly got a faint vision of Sherlock Holmes in my mind. The more I looked around, the more British this place felt – especially with British flags begging for attention all around the room as well as signs with OXFORD on them. I suddenly felt very small, like a simpleton in somewhere of great potential. Gwen, however, fit in here just perfectly.

A young woman at a grand oak desk beckoned us over. I stared at the desk, so like the one my father had owned all those years ago, sanded and polished to reveal a strong, remarkable beauty. I found myself wanting to run my fingers over the surface, but the woman's voice kept me focussed.

"Gwen Stacy?" she asked politely, beaming.

I could feel Gwen shaking with nerves beside me. "Yes," she said with the faintest of quivers in her voice. "Yes, that's me."

"You're a little early, dear; would you like to take a seat? I'll call you when we're ready for you."

"Um… sure," Gwen said with a forced smile, but the nervousness in her eyes was clear. Shooting a quick smile to the receptionist, I quickly caught Gwen by the elbow and whisked her away. We found a couple of seats near the main doors, to which I guided Gwen into one while I took the one on her left. I crossed my legs on the cushioned seat, watching my best friend carefully. She in turn sat with her back straight and one leg over the other, tapping her foot impatiently. I couldn't help but cock my head at her.

"I've never seen you this nervous before." I said with a faint smile. She pouted at me, feigning an annoyed expression.

"This could mean the beginning of a new life." she said, biting her lip.

"A new life in England. I suggest you start to like tea, those guys kill for that stuff." I gently knocked her shoulder, but I couldn't crack a smile out of her. "C'mon, Gwen, you're gonna nail this."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Huh?"

"If I get this, then that means I'll be leaving _you. _I'll have to leave you and Peter and my family–" she slumped back into the seat, exasperated. "It all hit me last night when I got home. After everything you told me, I kept thinking, '_am I being selfish for leaving you when you need me?' _It feels wrong."

"Do you know what would be wrong?" I countered. "If you ran out of here and didn't go through with it. That would just be idiotic. See, this is exactly why I didn't want to tell you everything; I knew you'd get doubts in your head."

"Of course I've got doubts! You're my best friend and you're in trouble, yet the only thing I've been worried about was getting this place at Oxford. I've been a terrible friend to you."

"On the contrary, I was the horrible one by keeping everything from you." I took her hand in mine and squeezed. "I can handle myself, Gwen, you know I can. I'm not going to stand in the way of you and your future – that would just make me Queen of the Asshats." I planted a huge grin on my face. "With a smile like this, those guys won't know what hit them when I go all karate kid on them."

"You'll get yourself killed."

"Your lack of faith wounds me."

"I'm _serious._"

"So am I." I turned my smile into one of warmth. "I took down four grown men yesterday and got out with barely a scratch. You don't need to worry about me. You won't find me unconscious in an alley again, not like that one time. I'm stronger than I look."

A beat passed as she looked at me. "I need you."

I shook my head. "No you don't. You don't need anyone, you never have. I'm the one that can't survive on my own, not you. You have the whole world at your feet. You're annoyingly pretty and clever, you're one of the bravest people I know, you're kind, honest and hilarious, so England is one lucky country to even have you consider moving there. And while you're there you'll probably meet some hot English kid who's rich and has awesome hair, and after that you'll travel the world together and get married and have kids, and all the while you'll be earning a helluva lot money by the time you finish your scholarship and get a science based job. You have to think of it as something so much bigger than what you think. Think of it as not an end of something, but the beginning of something so much more incredible."

When I was finished, she had tears in her eyes. "Sometimes you make more sense than I care to admit."

I shrugged, blinking away tears of my own. "I'm full of surprises."

"Miss Stacy?" the receptionist called, smiling warmly. "We're ready for you."

So we got up, Gwen hugged me tighter than necessary, until finally she followed the receptionist through a doorway and out of sight. I stood there for a long time, wondering if I should wait for her when I got a text from Peter.

_It's done. He didn't take it well. X_

I closed my eyes and took a long, slow breath before I replied.

_I'll deal with it. Send me his address. X_

* * *

On Harry's doorstep I felt intimidated, wondering what I would say to lift his spirits. It was one that stood over me, made of fine wood and carefully engraved. There was a call button on the wall beside it, complete with a microphone and speaker. Someone had demanded who I was through speaker, a butler of some kind; the finery of an American rich kid. I half expected to be turned away, but the speaker beeped somewhat positively so I hung around just a little bit longer. Eventually the doors opened, where I was greeted by an old man with glasses and greying hair. He beckoned me inside, shutting the doors behind us.

I'd never been in a mansion before. It was like walking into the _Von Trapp_ house from _The Sound of Music, _only it was colder than what I imagined that house to be. It was so dull and open that I thought I'd see the mist of my breath at any moment, the cold exposure making me huddle in on myself just a little.

The butler led me up a grand staircase that curved with grace. I could image a ball taking place here, and an image of Harry in a tux along with a mystery girl dressed in fine gowns floated to mind. I could picture it clearly, her hand on his elbow as he guided him down the steps to a waiting crowd of finery and riches. It was something from the nineteen forties, but it was in my head nonetheless. Knowing that such an event would never happen, another image crept into my thoughts; the ball scene from _The Shining, _a place where the dead danced for all of eternity.

Maybe that's why it was so cold.

"The door on the left at the end of the hall, ma'am." said the butler. "Master Osborn will be there."

I nodded, too afraid to say a word. I was out of my depth here, having walked into something very sinister for reasons I could never dream to explain. I edged down the corridor in which the butler had sent me down, merging with the shadows. I moved with so much caution, like I was in a jungle full of danger. The air was too thin, hard to breathe in. There was so much tension it pressed down on me, almost pushing me to go in the opposite direction. Perhaps I should have run out of there when I had the chance, but I didn't. As awful as the air there felt, it felt strangely appealing to me as it did repelling.

Turning at the end, I pushed open a single door. Light splayed out at my feet like a wave of water, warm and contrasting against the cold corridor. The room beyond was of the same vastness as the main hallway downstairs, but brighter and more homely. A grey couch was placed near the window, accompanied by a glass coffee table. In the corner was a tray full of glasses and a bottle of what looked like whiskey. It was almost empty.

I noticed broken glass was scattered over the floor, remnants of a rage. The cushions of the couch had been thrown all over the place, one even torn to shreds. There was a noticeable crack in the glass surface of the coffee table.

But none of these things could have prepared me for the state of Harry. His shaking form stood by the window, his back to me. He held a glass of whiskey by its rim at his side, so loose that it would probably slip from his grasp at any moment. The tension in his shoulders was clear, even from the doorway, and I found myself lingering away, just watching him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid, but there was something so appealing to this side of him all at the same time.

Dangerous.

Lethal.

Relatable.

I cleared my throat, and I could practically feel his sinister smile before he turned around. He swayed a little, his eyes unfocussed for the most part. A cut grazed his cheekbone, fresh yet dried over with blood. His eyes looked exhausted, bloodshot. Pale and not at all confident on his feet, he could have just passed for being pissed. But then there was the trace of disease on his neck, angrier than the last time I'd seen it, green and rotten. Harry Osborn looked like death, and that was because he was facing death headlong.

"Claudia," he said, his voice a growl.

"Harry," I replied, my throat very dry. I couldn't say anymore other than his name.

"And what brings you to the grand Osborn household?" he asked, discarding his glass on the close-to-shattering coffee table. "You sure picked your timing."

"I have a knack for that." I managed.

He smiled, edging closer to me. "That you do." he agreed, then his dreary eyes shifted to the door behind me. "Close it."

I closed it. "What happened?"

He didn't answer. He came closer and closer, backing me up against the door. I knew I should have fled there and then, but his eyes were filled with so much emotion that I couldn't look away. Loathing, betrayal and rage swirled into one ugly combination, locked onto me like a bird of prey. The closer he got, the more he invaded not just my personal space. Alcohol was so strong on him that it burned my eyes and nostrils, yet there was the hint of his own scent that made my mouth water. His conflicting emotions flowed so much inside him that they plagued the air between us, suffocating me in a cloud of darkness. In a diabolical way, I felt very much as home.

My back came against the door, just as Harry halted. His boots came flush with the tips of my sneakers, his hips just kissing mine. I kept staring, holding my ground, ignoring the pounding of my heart. "What happened?"

"The rich kid didn't get what he wanted, that's what happened." he told me bitterly, pressing one palm against the wall at the side of my head. He pivoted his body, falling closer to me. The sharpness of those blue eyes took my breath away.

"That doesn't really tell me much." I whispered.

"Curious little rat, aren't you?"

"Rat is a new description but I won't disagree."

"Do you know what the rat symbioses?"

"No, but I have a feeling you're about to tell me."

He chuckled darkly and cupped my neck with his hand, which was icy on my skin. I shivered, closing my eyes. He pulled so that I came closer, allowing him to rest his forehead against mine. It wasn't out of tenderness, though. There was no tenderness in his touch or his closeness, only bitterness.

"They symbolise immorality, stubbornness, curiosity and death." he told me softly. "I think immorality matches you perfectly."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, because there is wickedness about you_. _You burn, but it's not your fire that ruins people, it's the smoke you leave behind. You _suffocate _people with the lies you tell."

"What lies do you speak of?" I asked, strangely defiant. "The lie of my happy life? Did you ever wonder that maybe I was doing that so I could survive in this hellhole of a life?"

"Why bother?" he asked. "It'll all come crumbling down one day."

"And you think this is the answer?" I countered, pulling back. He tried to pull me back, so I did something so very cruel; I cupped his own throat, locking my palm over the diseased part of his skin. It felt fleshy against my hand, as well as wet and warm. Bile rose to my throat but I swallowed it down. Harry hissed violently through his teeth, pulling back just enough that I could see beyond his face. I didn't remove my hand; instead, I pushed down harder, holding him at my mercy.

"_Maybe it's time I made you burn_." I snarled under my breath. "Listen up, rich boy. Just because all has gone to hell for you doesn't mean you can try and belittle me. You're better than that. I don't know what's happened," I didn't even feel guilty for the lie "but whatever it was, don't you _dare _try and push me down face first into the dirt. It's time you grew a pair and fought back against the crap pulling you down. You may feel weak and useless now, but you don't have to be.

I'm going to tell you the difference between you and me. Rats are known as rodents who kill, seen as filthy creatures that carry the plague. If you're comparing me to a rat, then that just makes me more powerful. I can survive knowing that while I can be mostly harmless, I still have the potential to harm if I have to. But what are _you_? You're just a frightened little mouse who's lost his way in the big bad world. You lived a life of glamour; you bit the cheese in the trap, and now you being crushed by your own arrogance. But what are you going to do now? Are you going to just wait for the trap to crush you on the inside, or are you going to wriggle out and _survive?_"

He stared at me with wide eyes, astonished. At his silence, I released his throat and allowed him to stagger back.

"Are you going to let my smoke suffocate you, or are you going to let the pain of fire wake you up?" I demanded.

"You fight dirty." he said, a small smile on his mouth.

I glared, feeling vicious. "Wake up and smell the filth, Harry," I said. "New York's a cruel, unfair place. Life is even worse. Sometimes, if you can't clean up the dirt, you had to add to the mess."

"I was wrong about you." he said, sounding surprised at himself. "You're not pretending to live a perfect life. It wouldn't matter if you were." He cocked his head like a curious dog. "The Hell is already in your head."

I stared at him for a long, long time, the silence heavy. And then, feeling drained and angry and afraid all at once, I filled the room with the sound of my own slow, sarcastic clapping. He finally understood. He finally got it. We were finally on the same page of our wicked story.

After that, the words in our book no longer coincided, but instead blurred together in a mix of different paths and chaos before the flames burned them to ashes.

* * *

**Let me know what you thought guys!**


	18. Turning Point

**Guys I'm so sorry it's late, I've been super busy! Thanks so much for being patient with me :D**

* * *

I felt ill. The entire encounter with Harry had left me drained and cold, the rubbery feel of his neck still lingering on my hand like a bad smell – I kept wiping my palm on my jeans in the hopes to get rid of his diseased presence. It was strange. I had gone over to his place with every intention of calming him down, which I had in a way. But that wasn't how I imagined it to go. Peter had left me in a light state of mind that morning, but then Harry just went as blocked out the sun with his misery. He had an effect on me, something beyond my better judgement.

I was neither saint nor sinner. I was neither good nor bad. I was neither angel nor demon. I was on the borderline, balancing between the two until someone pushed me over. I had Martha, Peter and Gwen yanking on one elbow while Harry gnawed relentlessly at the other. I had the potential to be both; I could love so fiercely that it made me blind, while the hate inside me was so controlling that I lost myself in it. I could kiss Peter and know I loved him, I could hug Gwen and know she was almost a sister, and I could adore Martha and never forget that her blood was my blood, that her pain was my pain, that her joy was my joy. And then there was Harry.

Harry was the bad boy descending into something maddening. He was a mess, lonely and traumatized, slowly rotting on the inside. The fact that he wanted to take me down with him made me want to claw his eyes out and join him all at the same time. It was easier to go mad and lose yourself; it just meant you could stop caring for a while. However, if I was to fall now, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to come to myself, not again. The first time had been a struggle for over half a year, and even now I wasn't completely recovered, so to relapse would probably ensure my place in Harry's pit of loathing. Right now, the only people that kept me standing were Martha, Peter and Gwen. I could feel love, adoration, guilt and endured a fierce protective streak when around them. Guilt brought me back to them more often than not. If I ever stopped feeling guilty, then I'd be gone for good.

Walking home helped me breathe better. Everything was so foggy and out of place, blurring into something beyond recognition. People around me looked like smudged paint, the city was just white noise, and I wanted nothing more than to be at home. I should never have gotten involved with Harry. I should never have let him bite under my skin. I should never have let him into my life.

I inhaled. I exhaled. The icy air swirled around my lungs like a much needed gust of wind. Why couldn't I choose who I wanted to be? I wanted to be the girl that Martha could protect, that Peter could love, that Gwen could go out shopping with. I wanted to be strong and hot headed but still soft when it counted. I wanted to be slightly troubled but still a survivor.

So why was I no better than Harry every time he was around? There was a connection there, something so foul and wrong yet it felt so right in my blood. I felt like I was shedding an outer skin in his presence, revealing something ugly beneath. But there was something about us that was so beautifully messed up that it just worked. Peter and I worked because night and day created a sunrise, while Harry and I created an eclipse.

I came to realise that being trapped in my head was excruciatingly exhausting.

Arriving back at the apartment, I was welcomed by an empty home. I often found it cold when Martha wasn't around, for she was warm and bright. The openness of the apartment felt never ending when I was alone, but when Martha was here it felt like it was our own little world safely cupped in our hands.

But it was cold now than what it usually was.

The answer phone on the counter flashed with two new messages, a much needed distraction from everything else swirling in my mind. I pressed the play button, wrapping my arms around myself as I shivering, pulling the sleeves of my sweater past my fingertips. The first message was from Gwen, who sounded bubbly, yet the tears in her voice were unmistakable.

"_Claudia, it's me. I tried you on your mobile but I got no answer, so I thought I'd ring you here. I don't know where you went after I went in for the interview, but here goes; I got the placement! I don't know where you are, and I can't find Peter either, but I really want us to meet up because… well… I leave tomorrow night, so… yeah, please ring me back. I don't want to say goodbye over the phone, especially not to you. I love you. Bye."_

I smiled to myself and made the note to call her back later on tonight. Hopping onto the counter, I waited for the second message to play so that I wouldn't need to think about Gwen's departure; I wasn't ready to give in to that loss just yet.

The second was from Martha. "_Hey babe, it's only me. I figured you'd be home before me so just rang to say I'd be home at about seven tonight. There's pizza in the freezer if you want it. I'll see you when I get back, love you." _

My heart instantly began to thud loudly in my chest. The clock on the cooker flashes _20:43 _at me. She should have been back just under two hours ago. Quickly I held the phone to my ear, redialling her number.

_"__Hi, it's Martha. I can't get to the phone right now but if you leave a message–" _I hung up and tried again, but it went straight to voicemail. No, no, no, no! I rang again, and again, and again, until at last I slammed the phone back down and paced the apartment.

My palms began to sweat, my mind racing for a logical reason why she wasn't home and while her phone was switched off. Something was wrong. The apartment began to feel wrong all around me, the walls closing in on me. I felt like I was being trapped by irrational panic, but I couldn't help it. I struggled to breathe, struggled to thing, the only words in my head being, _where's my sister?_ It was the same panic that Martha had described to me when she'd learned Rick had taken me all that time ago, but it came crashing down on my like tumbling debris. I was trapped in a destruction of panic, the questions stinging my eyes, the fear choking me like ash, the panic crushing me down, down, down.

And then I noticed things. Martha's handbag was here, on the counter where she always put it after getting home. Her shoes were on the mat beside the door, and her coat was hung up next to mine on the back of the door. my panic began to subside a little as I raced around the apartment, calling out to her, telling myself she had either gone bed early or was in the shower.

She wasn't anywhere to be found. The panic came back with twice as much force, almost knocking me off my feet. Menken's voice swirled around my head like a black cloud of poison. _I'd hate to see anything happen to her because of you._

I was running for the door to search for her when it swung open, almost knocking my over. A part of me almost screamed with relief at the idea that it might have been Martha, but it wasn't. It was a man, a man with a cut lip and a black eye, a man I had seen just the day before in a blur of fists and kicks. He held up my sister's phone, the screen cracked as it showed a message claiming she had five missed calls from me.

The man smiled. "I should have come with us when we asked you to, Miss Thatcher." he said. I didn't think, didn't feel. I lunged for his throat like a wild animal, only this time he was prepared. He ducked, catching me around the waist before pulling me down to the ground. I howled in fury, every fibre inside me aflame. In that moment, as he wrestled me to the ground, I wanted nothing more than to kill him.

More bodies surrounded us. Hands grabbed for me, pinning me down. I kicked and scratched, but now I was no match against four men on me. I was too broken down by panic and loathing that I couldn't think through my options. They'd taken my sister. They'd taken Martha. That was all I could think, all logical sense now out the window.

I don't remember how, but I managed to snap my teeth down on one of my attacker's hands. I bit down so hard that I tasted blood, blood that wasn't my own. In my rage and desperate need to hurt these people, it was the equivalent of tasting sweet nectar. I bit down harder until he screamed to the heavens.

But then his hand was gone, replaced by a foul-tasting cloth lodged tightly between my teeth. A sound raged from my throat and it didn't sound human. My muscles began to spasm, igniting my body with hot, fiery pain. The loathing inside me was like awakening a monster, something so foul and rotten deep down that awakened everything else within my body. I could feel it tearing through my skin, bursting with bloodlust. I'd felt such feelings before, but nothing like this. This was the balance being shifted. This was me tumbling into the pits of Hell.

They lifted me then, withering and kicking and thrashing, barely silenced by a gag. A distant part of me wondered why nobody seemed to come out and help, but later I would learn that the whole affair lasted no more than ten seconds. They'd been efficient, knowing exactly what to expect from me. All they'd needed was to weaken me into an unfocussed state of mind. They'd stunned me, ready for an easy slaughter.

With a growled curse, one of the men violently blinded me with a separate piece of cloth, so tight around my head that it made my temples pulse. And then, after one final rage, a horrid, bitter smell attacked my nostrils.

The darkness behind the blindfold became much darker and never ending.

When I came to, strapped to a chair with a pounding head, I was met by a computer screen. On said screen was a girl, lying in what looked like a cell of some kind. She was on the ground, seemingly unconscious, sprawled in the corner as if she had been mauled. Even though the screen was black and white, I could tell she had blonde hair. While taller than me in person, here she looked very, very small and alone.

I tried to struggle and say something, but I was still gagged and tired relentlessly to the chair. Arms wrapped behind me, I could feel the wire digging into my skin, so tight that I could barely feel my hands. My ankles were no better off in their position against the legs of the chair. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at the laptop, the idea of being able to do nothing tearing me apart. That's the thing about anger; you can build on it for so long, but when restrained, you fall into the dirt.

"Hello again, Claudia." I knew it was Menken before I looked up. I did so slowly, painfully, the joints in my neck aching beyond belief. I didn't make a sound, didn't try to move, only stared at him with the most murderous look I had in me.

He merely smiled. "I never bluff, you know." He circled the table between us, swiftly pushing the face of the laptop down with long, bony fingers. "Don't worry, she's alright. I can't say that her arrival here was pleasant for her, but little harm was done. I do hope she is better behaved than you when she wakes up."

I said something over the gag. Though no words were clear, it was obvious I was telling him to go 'off' is a certain fashion. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and grinned.

"I got your message yesterday; you roughed up my men pretty good. I could use you as an agent here." He sighed. "But you've ruined any hope of that. Your time with the Osborn and Parker boys is really beginning to… unnerve me. A little creature like you hanging around the likes of them is out of my comfort zone. With Harry as a potential threat to even himself and his own company, while Peter is one of immense secrecy, having you in between makes for a lethal solution. I want it over."

His fist slammed down on the desk, making me jump. I closed my eyes to keep more tears from falling, drowning in my own silence.

"I know you're too stubborn to leave like the Stacy girl is doing. I know you have more fight in you than sense. You're a wildcard. But, my tomorrow morning, you'll want nothing more than to flee the city and start a new life elsewhere. I don't care where you go, but I want you and your sister gone by tomorrow night." He leaned in close, smelling of cologne and something sickeningly wrong. "And you _will _do as I say, Claudia, or you and Martha are going to pay in blood. I've made many people disappear; it won't take much to deal with you."

The sound of my pulse was deafening, aiding in my headache that was ripping apart my skull. I loathed this man. I wanted him dead. I wanted to pin him down and rip his eyes out. I wanted to tear him limb from limb. I wanted his blood as gloves on my hands. I wanted him to _pay._

I stared at his with glassy eyes, breathing as steady as I could. Somewhere in those grey, soulless eyes, I saw fear, but he remained relentless.

"I have someone who has been wanting to see you for a while now." He said, stepping away. "You've met him before, I believe, though you didn't get off to a good start. But I suppose you could start over." His eyes danced with black humour. "Though it's doubtful."

Being gagged meant it was a struggle to swallow. The amount of saliva in my mouth was enough to spit down his throat and choke him with. I knew who he spoke of, and I felt nothing. No fear, no anger, just murderous intent. So, since he was unready on edge, I furthered his unease with the bitterest of smiles. I probably looked insane smiling with a gag.

"Are you prepared to talk to a friend of mine?" he asked, fighting to keep the unease off his features. "Someone who is… _less_ than a fan of yours?"

I shrugged, almost a lazy gesture given the situation. He blinked, and I lowered my eyes to indicate to the gag. He paused for a moment, and then reluctantly freed me of the restraint. I flexed my jaw and resisted the urge to spit. I needed to be careful now, for not only did I have a priority to get Martha out of here, but I was to avenge those who had hurt her in the first place. Pissing Menken off would send him running and bring his men in to rough me up. I wasn't having that. Menken, whether it be tonight or ten years from now, was a dead man.

""Go ahead." I said with a killer smile. "_I dare you._"

He said nothing, while I simply thought; _maybe I can convince Max Dillon to kill him. _

Menken gave me a look that said; _do your worst. _I had every intention of doing so.

* * *

**Dun dun dun...**


	19. Living Hell

**Chapter 19! Thanks again all of you, your support means a lot :) I'm sorry I didn't answer a question asked in Chapter 17, but the X after the text messages are actually a british way of putting kisses :P And as for those of you who want the Clarry ship, you'll just have to bare with me, I know this is only a fanfic but it's a story about Claudia and not her love interests, you may get lucky sooner or later though.. Fear not Paudia shippers, all is not lost for them either!**

* * *

Harry was falling over the edge. He was spiralling out of control, lost in anger and grief. He could feel nothing but negativity, the hate for Fate and God and whatever the hell else was out to get him so immense he could hardly think straight. He wanted to hit something, _anything, _if it meant he could feel again. But instead he paced his office like an angry lion, taking a swig of the whisky that swirled in his glass. It burned down his throat, a comforting pain and made him unable to think, just for a moment. Maybe he could drink himself to death; at least he'd go out numb and drunk.

Felicia stood near the doors, watching him with the eyes of a guarded cat. Felicia reminded Harry a little of Claudia, only without the fierce streak. Felicia was the domestic cat while Claudia was the panther, but that didn't mean her hiss wasn't chilling or her scratch didn't make a victim bleed. Her presence comforted him just a little, knowing that there was a potential rebelliousness beneath her often blank expression. There was something off about the girl; he had a gut feeling that she was playing the shy, can't-do-any-wrong-good girl, but he'll be damned if that was the case. Like everyone in the world, Felicia had an agenda. He didn't care what it was, but whatever it might be encouraged him to keep her in his presence. Perhaps one day she could become of more use than just an assistant.

As he gazed out of the window, silently fuming at everything, Felicia cleared her throat quietly behind him. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking… but what does the Thatcher girl mean to you?"

Had it have been anyone else, Harry would have barked an order for her to mind her own business. But she wasn't just anyone else; she was his beautiful but dark assistant. He turned with a lopsided grin, his boots clapping the floor as he made a slow advance on her. She didn't look afraid; in fact, she squared her shoulders at his approach. He liked it.

"That's something a jealous woman would ask." he said, his voice dripping with mockery. He didn't miss the young lady's eyes darken dangerously.

"Not jealous, sir, but concerned." she said. She didn't sound defensive, only determined to get her true motive across.

"Concerned, you say? And why would an assistant be concerned about his boss and the company he keeps?"

"Forgive me if I'm intruding–"

"You're not sorry," he cut in before she could finish. She flinched, but relaxed when she saw that he was smiling. Harry stopped a couple of feet away from her, scuffing the toe of his boot on the marble floor. "Being sorry only gets us into more trouble these days, anyway. So tell me, why are you concerned?"

Felicia cast her eyes down to the ground nervously – or was she pretending to be nervous – before she answered. "It's just that Claudia Thatcher is bad news. I've heard the other men speak of her, as well as whispers of her dangerous potential. And… well, just the other day, I bumped into her on the way to work; she was bloodied and dishevelled, like she'd been involved in a fight."

The mention of this stirred something inside of Harry. Worry? No. Claudia was capable at looking after herself, he knew. Curiosity was a much better term. "Who's spoken of her?"

Felicia looked at him in the eyes. "Menken and his men. I've heard them say that she is being a nuisance to the company for being in your company."

"My, my, Felicia, anyone would think you've been spying."

"People learn nothing if they don't listen out for things." she said with confidence, her voice taking an edge he had never heard before. "I hear things, some important, others not so. Oscorp is full of secrets, it would seem." Her eyes shone with dark amusement. "I've even heard talk of a place called Ravencroft."

Harry frowned. "Ravencroft? Isn't that a prison for the insane?"

Felicia shrugged. "I can't say, but what I can say is that I've heard the name a few times, and it's always been accompanied with two other names; Max Dillon and Claudia Thatcher."

Harry's head started to hurt. He didn't want to learn new information, he was too tired. "That's enough, Felicia. We can talk about this when feel less like crap. Just go home."

"But you won't feel better, will you?" she protested. "You'll only get worse." Her expression turned timidly thoughtful. "I think I might be able to help."

Harry laughed bitterly. "The only thing that could help me had been destroyed." Saying the words made him feel even bitterer, the anger sizzling in his poisoned blood like acid. The conversation with Spiderman and his rejection drifted to mind, and Harry felt the strong urge to throw his glass at the wall. He didn't; it would be a waste of good whisky.

Felicia was defiant, though. She moved closer with the grace of a dancer, and her hands reached out for him. She thought better of grasping his arms, though, and let her hands fall to her sides. "When I say I've heard things, I don't just mean about the Thatcher girl. I don't think all of the stuff you're talking about was destroyed." Her eyes were bright with anticipation. "Spider venom, right? Genetically altered?"

"How did you–"

"I've heard they still have some, somewhere here in the building. I couldn't tell you where, but I've heard it spoken about. I have reason to believe that it is the same thing that can save your life." She smiled something of smugness. "Being an assistant has its benefits if it's to the right person."

He could have kissed her. He didn't, but he could have. Hastily, he told her to wait outside his office and keep anyone from entering, to which she obliged more than happily. The bubbling excitement had him almost smiling, but he needed proof that what Felicia was saying was true. He couldn't help but get his hopes up, though. If there was something, he could just imagine himself healing, feeling the repairing of his body, his skin, his organs. It sounds like the best kind of drug, one that he was addicted to before had even tried it. It was amazing what could drive a dying man when given hope.

He prayed that he could find something in his father's files. He had only taken a look at his twice before, but there were so many files that there was no way he could get through them all in one sitting. It was, literally, Norman Osborn's life's work, right up until he died. He searched every folder, tapped the glass desktop on every titled document, not really reading it. His hands were moist and shaking. His breathing was unsteady with anticipation. The rotten flesh on his neck tingled with a separate life. He needed to find something, _anything. _

_THATCHER, CLAUDIA._

Harry's breathing hitched. A voice over on the software informed him that the file had been added just an hour and a half ago. Though he knew something wasn't right, and that he would probably suffer for it in the long run, he pressed his trembling fingers against the file to expand it.

Image upon image of Claudia flew by with the wave of his hand, one after the other. On some she was alone, while on others she was with Peter, Gwen or Martha. Some were taken out in the city, others in the halls of her apartment building. There was even surveillance of when all four teens had gone skating together. Harry's heart thudded loudly in his chest as he flicked through image after image.

Eventually, he came across a video. It was outside her apartment, the clip in black and white surveillance, but it was easy to tell that it was Claudia. She wasn't alone. Four men were wrestling her to the ground, and while the images had glitches here and there, Harry had to grit his teeth as he watched her sink her teeth into one of the attacker's arm. Though fuzzy, he could make out the oozing of blood. The girl he admired so much fought and fought until she was no match, going limp as they lifted her up and bound her, blinding her and silencing her with a gag. One of the men placed a piece of fabric over her mouth until she was unmoving.

The footage had been taken twenty hours prior to now.

Sickened, Harry continued to search through the files. He came across something else forced into the program just an hour earlier, the file unnamed. When opened, he was met by a video and images of the man from Times Square, the one who had attacked Claudia in cold blood. What name had Felicia used earlier? _Max Dillon. _This was Max Dillon, it had to be, and man did he look rough.

His skin glowed blue, shimmering and deadly. The veins in his neck and head were so clear it was like looking into a cloud glass sphere. Harry remembered this creature from the TV news, obviously, but to see it again still took his breath away. Strapped to something of high restraint, so much so that the thing that was once a man couldn't move his head, Harry couldn't help but wonder if this was indeed Ravencroft that Felicia had mentioned; he would have known if something like this was happening in his own company. And if it was, what the hell kind of asylum was it?

Harry couldn't make out much of what Max was saying when he opened one of the videos, for his head was too taken aback by this explosion of information, but some things imprinted on his mind.

_"__A world without power. A world without mercy. A world without Spider-Man!"_

Before Harry could even process these words, the entire software shut down on him. Cursing, his fingers swept over the glass to try and retrieve the jackpot of his father's work, but he was only rewarded with lets in red flashing _ACCESS DENIED._

"Hello, Harry." Said a voice from the door. Harry looked up, his head reeling with excitement and pain. Menken stood there with a proud, malicious grin on his face. Harry stared in utter disbelief, everything clicking together so fast it almost knocked him clean off his feet. There were men behind him, men who looked familiar; one suffered from a black eye while the other was pained with bloody knuckles.

Claudia's attack was projected behind Harry's eyelids, so clear that he felt like he was re-watching the footage. The rage hit him like a hurricane, strong and relentless. He buried it deep, though, and feigned ignorance. He knew his time here was up. He knew he was out numbered. But, unless Claudia was still alive and got to them first, these men were as good as dead.

* * *

Max Dillon was exactly how I remembered him in appearance, but in terms of personality he was very, very angry. I could hardly blame him; I was angry, too. And walking in on Max in such a state, strapped down and restrained like an animal, I couldn't have felt more anger in my entire life. All of the fear and desperation from our last encounter was gone, all of the anger for Max now turned on the people who held him here today. He may have been dangerous, but he didn't deserve to be treated like this. How else was he supposed to respond when he woke up as a walking source of electricity? He'd been frightened, confused and alone, and instead of helping him these people were treating him like a monster. The real monsters here were the men in suits, not the man made from electricity.

I could focus on nothing else but Max. The lab was dark itself, a few sources of light here and there. I could only guess that they were using as little electricity as possible since Max was one to manipulate it. Frankly, I wished there was enough electricity in here for Max to sizzle the brains out of every employee. And in return, Max stared at me with glowing blue eyes that looked strangely empty.

"Leave us." his voice cackled electrically, low and intimidating. My hands were bound behind my back with wires that still clawed into my skin, and I had two guards at either elbow. I said nothing and kept my eyes on Max, who didn't shift his own gaze. The guards hesitated before they released me and edged out of the room, but I didn't have a doubt that they would be watching us on CCTV. Let them watch. I wanted them to know how dead they were.

"You're bleeding." Max said with virtually no emotion. I was bleeding. After spending the night in the cells, and bad mouthing anyone who tried to enter, I may have received a punch or two to the face. I could taste blood in my mouth and felt a heavy bruise form on the right of my face, yet the pain was almost numb. I didn't care anymore.

I shrugged. "I hardly noticed."

"Why are you bleeding, girl?"

I shrugged again. "They hit me."

"Why?"

"Because I've been bad, apparently."

"Maybe I should put you out of your misery."

I watched him carefully. He watched me. His eyes drifted all over me, head to toe, took note of my bound wrists behind my back, observed the small tremor in my legs, memorised the bruise on my face and shadows under my eyes.

I hadn't slept during the light, locked up in that room that Menken had interrogated me. I'd been wide awake, thinking about Martha, wondering where she was in this god forsaken place. They'd wanted me to suffer before seeing Max, wanting me to dwell on the consequences of my actions. One of the guys who guarded the door outside had come in to me with food and water, only to have me clawing at his place while screaming bloody murder. He'd hit me, and the fist that connected with my cheekbone had had a ring. The pain at the time had been shocking, but now it meant nothing.

"Or maybe you could kill everyone in this building." I said quietly.

"For you? Why would I do that?"

"It wouldn't be for me; hell, I'd help you. Killing me wouldn't be as satisfying as killing everyone else in here all at once." I smiled maliciously. He stared back with a blank expression.

"What happened to you?" he sounded oddly soft despite the cackling rumble of his voice. "You are not the girl from Times Square. You are not the girl who was _Spiderman's _friend." He spat the name.

"What happened to me?" I said, stepping closer. "What _happened _to me? These bastards took my _sister. _They threatened me, and when I didn't do what they wanted, when _all I wanted _was to be _happy, _they took away my sister." I was hissing out the words, my voice dripping with deadly malic. I unconsciously struggled against my bounds, but they only bit into my skin. "And I want them to _pay._"

"Why doesn't your _friend _help you?" he demanded, clearly referring to Peter's alter ego. I glared, dipping my head so that shadows cast over my face.

"As you said, I am not the friend he once knew." I snarled. "Not right now." I was so close now that I could feel his power buzzing in the air, trembling in the ground at my feet, threatening to sizzle my hair. "Tell me, Max, why did you want me here?"

He took a while to answer. "I wanted you to pay. I wanted you to know about your selfishness. I wanted you to _die._"

"Jealousy is an ugly emotion." I said lowly. "What changed?"

"You're… wrong. You're not you. You're… _crazy_."

"We're all a little crazy." I whispered. "But I think you were more of a wakadoodle before you turned into… _this._"

All of a sudden I was paralysed. I felt a scream rise in my throat but nothing came out for it was probably frazzled out of me. Max stared at me right in the eyes, which seemed to glow all the more, so intense it was like looking into the sun. I felt like I was on fire, my clothes seemingly melting into my skin, but all the while my body jerked and shuddered as if I were having a seizure. The pain was excruciating, almost knocking me out. I felt myself fading when my feet left the ground.

I was afloat by murderous voltage.

"Dillon, release the girl! _DO IT!_ _You're killing her!_"

"My name is _ELECTRO_!"

The current burning me from the inside intensified, and this time I screamed until my lungs burned. I screamed until it deafened my own ears. I screamed until my voice died in my throat. I screamed until I felt myself dying.

I must have blacked out, because when I woke up I was on the cool ground. I panted like a dog, trembling as my muscles underwent teeth grinding spasms. People were yanking me to my feet, shouting words I couldn't hear. I could barely stand. I couldn't even think straight. All I did was try and relocate Max before I was taken away. When I saw him straining in his restraints with what was apparently rage, I screamed out to him.

"_I'm not your enemy, Max!_" I shrieked as I kicked and thrashed. "_They are your enemy! You can kill me, but they will never release you from this hellhole."_

_"__ENOUGH!" _one of the guards bellowed in my ears, but I only fought more intensely.

_"__I want to see my sister! Where is my sister?!" _I was hysteric, but I was beyond caring. "_MARTHA!"_

And somewhere, somewhere behind the walls in the corridors of this hellhole, I heard my sister scream in agony.

* * *

**And, from here on, shit is going to hit the fan my friends...**


	20. Enemies Unite

**I'm so sorry it's late guys, I just haven't had the chance to update as of late :( But don't worry, I haven't forgotten you guys!**

* * *

Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy were frantic. Running through New York City, they called out to their lost companion, a girl whom they had become very fond of. After no word from Claudia Thatcher for just under twenty four hours, they had grown suspicious, but when they'd rang her home and received no answer, the pair grew worried. When they arrived at the Thatcher household only to find the door ajar and the place empty, panic ensued.

They rang and rang and rang but to no avail. They tried Martha Thatcher, but she was as missing as her sister. Neither one would go so long without getting in touch, and if Peter knew anything at all about Claudia, she wouldn't get herself into trouble without his help. Something was so sickeningly wrong that he felt ready to wretch, and Gwen looked just as ill with worry.

They tried Harry Osborn, who Claudia had last visited before she disappeared. Peter loved Harry – he was his best pal, of course he loved him – but something about Claudia going to see him when he was in a delicate state set his teeth on edge. Harry wasn't like him. Harry was the boy who could flip at any given moment, and when that moment arose he was unattainable to control. There had been many times when they were kids that Harry had taken a bad turn, resulting in him storming off or kicking the crap out of innocent furniture.

The sad thing was that Peter wasn't worried about Claudia's safety; he was worried about what two troubled people could do when teamed up together. Claudia wasn't his to control and never would be. Peter never _wanted _to control Claudia. She was her own person, a little broken and far from perfect yet she was the only thing he would ever need in his life. He couldn't lose her, because losing her would be like losing a part of himself. To lose Claudia would mean to uneven the balance they two of them had, and only God knew what hell would arise when that happened.

Harry phone didn't even ring but instead went straight to voicemail. Peter cursed under his breath. "He's not picking up."

"Where the hell are they?" Gwen demanded hotly as they strode through the crowds on the sidewalk. "I leave in just _four hours_. I can't go if she's is still missing; what if she's hurt?"

"Something big is happening." Peter said, his eyes forever searching while his heart ached painfully. "Claudia's been in the spotlight of Oscorp for a while now, as well as Harry and me. I think they have plans, but I couldn't begin to tell you what kind." Saying it out loud made him feel sick.

"What would they want with her, though? She's an innocent teenager."

"As far as they're concerned she's anything but innocent, _especially_ if she's with me or Harry. For whatever reason they think we're the bad guys."

Gwen looked at him with huge grey eyes that swam with fear for her friend. "They think you have something to do with them genetically altered spiders."

Peter looked at her with a grave expression. "And they'll want me to disappear, along with Claudia. What the deal is with Harry is, though, I haven't got a clue."

Gwen waved him off and took him by the cuff of his sleeve. "Never mind Harry, we have to find her, _come on_."

"Where are you planning on looking?" he asked as they broke into a jog. She looked back at him and this time, it was her expression that was grave.

"Oscorp." So they ran.

They never made it.

* * *

They kept me in that room for over an hour after my visit with Max. I shook and shuddered now and then, my skin still frazzled from the many volts of electricity. An ache in my head made it almost unbearable to think, yet the flood of emotions and horrific thoughts had me wincing in pain. Lying down with my head against the cool marble floor, I listened to the dangerously low thudding of my heart as it slowly regained its strength. I was so weak I could barely feel the longing for my sister.

I closed my eyes and prayed for the damage in my body to repair itself. In the darkness, I envisioned a seven year old version of me and a thirteen year old Martha. She was reading to me, her lips moving with words that blurred with unconsciousness. Back then, in a pink room full of teddies and books, Martha had had coils of short golden hair and huge eyes bluer than the summer sky, like a young angel fallen from above. She'd made me feel safe even though there was nothing to fear. So, as another shudder ripples painfully through my body, causing my legs to spasm, I clung on to that memory until sleep pulled me under.

I came to probably a half an hour later. I lay still, testing myself, waiting for the spasm like waiting for a hiccup. Nothing came. Slowly I pushed myself up, wincing when my muscles tightened in protest. I managed to balance myself on my hands and knees, the reached out and pressed my palm against the cold wall. Shakily I got to my feet, the world swimming before my eyes. Yet when I took a step forward my knees buckled and I was back to square one.

By the fifth attempt I was up and walking, pacing the room with hesitant steps until I found the confidence to pick up my pace and rely on my balance. I felt useless and strong at the same time. I needed to battle the haziness and focus on regaining my strength, so as each minute passed I got stronger and stronger–and more pissed off.

After another half an hour, I found myself pounding my fists against the door so hard that they bruised. I sounded like a broken record screaming my sister's name. I can't say how much time passed but eventually someone came to the door, forcing it open so suddenly that it effectively knocked me backwards. I grabbed hold of the table to balance myself as a stranger walked in, dark hair falling into his eyes and his suit not as crisp as the other men I had seen; the top button of his shirt undone, his tie loose around his neck and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, I felt like he wasn't one to just stand around and look intimidating.

"Shut up." he said in a low growl, his eyes flashing with murderous intention.

"Take me to my sister and I will." I snarled in return, clenching my fists. He looked me up and down, sizing me up. Anger prickled at my skin until I trembled.

"You have an end of a bargain to abide by."

"That's no bargain, that's blackmail."

"And you are being very stupid for not acting out on it." He stepped closer, kicking the door shut behind him. I watched it for less than half a second, barely time for him to notice my glance. But I saw it. The door didn't close properly; it didn't click with the promise of a closed door. With an effortless yank it would swing open, and I'd be out of here. "You and your bitch of a sister can leave if you leave New York, it's simple. Menken won't ever come after you again."

"Where would we go? Where would be live?"

"Not my problem."

He advanced on me, his fist white. "So you're just gonna abuse a seventeen year old girl until you get what you want? Will you get the employee of the month for beating the crap out of me?" he got closer and I scrambled onto the table, crouched in a defensive position.

"I don't give a crap about the people I work for or what I do," he told me as his eyes flashed. "It's a job that keeps me out of street fighting."

"Street fighting must be far more entertaining, though." I said, allowing him to close in on me. "You can make a lot more mess and not worry about ruining that nice suit."

"They said you were a cocky one." he mumbled with a dark smile. "Allow me to change that."

"Rather you didn't." I said, but he ignored me and lunged. His hand snagged my ankle and yanked, knocking me down so fast I yelped in pain. He pulled me across the table and swung me across the room, my body slamming into the wall just short of the door. The impact knocked the breath away and stole my bearings, so I couldn't help but yelp when he grabbed me by my hair and lifted me up. I clawed my nails into his hands but the skin didn't break; he merely smirked at me.

"You're weaker than I was led to believe."

"You try getting smoked on the inside by a crazy electro guy."

I swatted at his face with my free hand, nails bared. Taken by surprise his grip on my hair loosened, enabling me to grab hold of his arm and lift myself up. Swinging, I rammed the flats of my feet headlong into his groin, sending him flying in pain over the table. He flopped to the floor, his face growing red with either pain or fury (maybe both), and in those precious seconds I bolted for the door. He hollered out a protest, but I was gone before he had a chance to get to his feet.

Two guards jumped at me on either side as I ran through the door, yet I ducked and sprang out of their grasp like a cat. The adrenaline flooding through my veins was like nothing I had ever felt before; it was as if I was a carefree ten year old again, where running was nothing more than second nature. I felt no pain in my muscles or my lungs, or felt a pounding in my head. The wall was already broken down, enabling me to run for as long as I had to.

Employees and guards were stunned to see me fleeing through the building, jumping at me like lions trying to pull down their prey. It took me a few minutes to realise that I had no idea what building I was on, only that it wasn't Oscorp. People dressed in white medical suits jumped out of my way or flung themselves at me, some wearing surgery masks while others wore nothing more than a lab coat over a plain suit. The smell of hospitals filled my nostrils, sickening and smelling so clean yet implying a lot of death, yet still I ran. I had no idea where to go, only that I needed to find my sister.

A body appeared out of nowhere around a corner, slamming into me so hard we both crashed to the ground. I blinked, stunned, and stared at a young man hiding behind a surgery mask while dark hair fell into his eyes. I blinked again, clambering to my feet in fear, but the man grabbed my wrist to keep me from running. His fingers were cold and shaking around my skin, a tremble I was oddly familiar with.

"Harry," I whispered in astonishment. Helping me to my feet, he rushed me down a corridor to which he had been heading down. When he saw that no one was around he yanked the little white mask off his face and looked down at me. Following that he took off his white medical coat and tossed it aside, revealing a young man in everything dark and dangerous; black leather jacket, black t-shirt, black skinny jeans and black biking boots. That combined with a face of someone driven by bloodlust, he looked utterly terrifying.

I'd never felt more comforted than I did in that moment.

With a gentle tug he pulled me against him, hugging me gently when I winced. I fisted my hands in his t-shirt, struggling to contain the relief flooding through me, instead focussing on the warmth of his body against mine and the steady heartbeat in his chest. He may not have been the safest person, and he certainly wasn't the loving Peter who I had hoped would come and find me one way or another, but he was familiar and he was here in this nightmare with me. That was all I needed.

"You okay?" he asked against my hair, his voice shaking a little.

"Not really." I whispered. "My sister… I need to find her."

"We will." he said in a voice full of promise. "But first we need to get some help."

"From who?" I demanded, pulling away to look up at him. He smirked something deadly.

"Come on." Was all he said before he took my hand and broke out into a run, pulling me along beside him.

* * *

Max looked tired. Not a few hours ago he looked ready to kill everyone around him, especially me, but now he just looked like he was done with anything and everything. I couldn't bring myself to be angry with him for attacking me earlier, for seeing him like this was no better than seeing an ill puppy lying on death row in the cold rain, just waiting for death. A part of me wanted to reach out and touch him in comfort. I knew how alone he must have felt, and it was the one thing we could both relate to.

Harry kept me behind him protectively, refusing to let me pass the length of his arm. His eyes were completely focussed on the thing that was once a man, who merely regarded us with empty, almost unseeing eyes. They flicked over me and I could feel his anger building once again, causing me to cringe back. Harry stepped to the side, directly in front of me, blocking Max's view.

"You focus on me right now, Max, not her."

"And who are you?" Max demanded in a low growl. I peeked around Harry's shoulder, needing to see him.

"I'm Harry Osborn, and I'm here to make you a deal."

"I would much rather kill that little rat behind you."

A conversation I had had with Harry burst open in my mind, and judging by the flinch in Harry's body, he remembered the same. "That little rat is with me, and killing her will mean that you can forget my help."

"I don't need your help."

"No?" Harry cocked his head. "Look, I can get you out of here, and only you can get us into Oscorp." Harry stepped forward, looking around nervously. "We don't have a lot of time to do it, though."

"I should kill you." Max snarled, and I suddenly found myself speaking up. He needed to see that right now, we were the best chance he had at getting out of here and tasting freedom once more. Once he was on our side, we'd be unstoppable, and I'd be able to find my sister without much trouble.

Theoretically, anyway.

"Come on, Max." I said slowly, moving to stand confidently beside Harry. "We're not the one's hurting you here, it's _them. _These monsters are the ones poking and prodding at you, keeping you hidden away, acting like you're not human. We're trying to help you get out. _They _are the ones who need to bleed, not us."

"Not just them," Harry interjected. "But so does _Spiderman_."

I snapped my eyes up to him, my heart sinking a little in my chest. "Harry, I don't think–"

He ignored me. "I want to make him _bleed, _and you can help me with that." My mouth went dry in fear, and when I turned to Max, he was trembling with something I could only imagine was anticipation. Max was riled up enough as it was, but to have the idea of spilling Peter's blood so clear on his mind was probably sending him over the edge. I wanted to speak up and try and take control, but a voice in my head had my biting my tongue.

_And what lengths would you go to in order to protect her? Would you kill for her, or die for her? What would you do if her life was on the line?_

I'd do anything. _Anything. _

"We need you, Max!" Harry shouted, pulling me out of my inner turmoil. Max froze, staring at us with huge eyes, his mouth agape. I looked over my shoulder and saw that people in white coats were running at us, and a new panic began swimming to the surface.

"Max, _please!_" I cried, jumping forward. "We're trying to help you, let us help you! _You need us and we need you!" _someone grabbed me from behind, lifting me so that my legs left the ground. Before I knew it I was kicking and screaming. "_MAKE THEM PAY!"_

"You need me?" Max whispered, sounding far, far away. Through the bodies trying to drag me and Harry away, I glimpsed his face, as innocent as a child.

"Yes!" Harry bellowed. "Help us! _We need you!"_

"_Help us!" _I shrieked. Tears blurred in my eyes and my last bit of hope began to slip away as easily as sugar between my fingers. I was going to die here, and so was Martha. I was going to fail her. Everything was over.

And then I was blinded. The hands on me vanished, and a current of electricity rippled through me yet didn't shock me. I yelped as I fell to the floor, Harry just a few meters away from me. The ground hummed underneath my hands, hot and cold all at the same time, and it took me a moment to process that out captors were lying on the ground unconscious–or dead–everywhere we looked. Fear and confusion fogged my mind for a moment, but when I looked up, Max was there, floating with a small smile on his face. He was free and glowing with a new life, a new lust in his eyes; a lust for blood.

Harry helped me to my feet and we slowly approached Max, who drifted to the ground to meet us half way. He regarded me silently, taking me in, noticing me for the first time on who I really was. I was done playing the nice girl.

"You really need me?" he asked me.

I smiled. "Make them bastards _burn._"

* * *

**Well snap.**


	21. Demons

**Again sorry it's late, been so busy lately it's ridiculous! To make up for it I've given you a long chapter, one I hope will set you on edge for what's to come. **

**Thanks to all my readers, I love you all!**

* * *

Martha had never felt this much fear or confusion. It was like reliving the nightmare with her ex-fiancé, back when she had believed she had lost her own sister to the man she had once believed she'd loved. She remembered daring him to kill her, not only because she wanted to be brave but because she couldn't bear carrying on as the only Thatcher in her family. But even through that bold act, she had been so terrified and ripped apart. Rick Hammond had shattered whatever was left of her life, taken away family, and above all violated any chance of her trusting a man again. The terror back then had almost killed her, and Martha had prayed that she would never feel that way again.

But here she was again. Here she was, over a year later, wondering where her baby sister was. Her head pounded, her gut twisted with sickening grief, and even the coolness of the concrete ground couldn't calm the red hot pain of terror, confusion and anger swirling into one in the deep confinements of her mind. Martha, out of the Thatcher family, had been the dreamer, the girl who lived in a fantasy. Now she was in an ongoing nightmare.

Were the Thatcher's cursed? It seemed feasible. Without Mark and Ashley Thatcher around for guidance, the sisters were in a rut on their own. Everything seemed to be out to get them. Claudia was unstable at the best of times with her emotions, especially after witnessing their parents' death first hand, and Martha herself wasn't any better now. They needed each other to survive, yet fate seemed determined to tear them apart. Together, they were unstoppable, but torn apart and they were ticking time bombs.

But right now, all that Martha could think was that she would give up all her tomorrows for just one more yesterday. She wanted to go back to the life she once knew, back before she even met Rick, back when she still had a bedroom full of childhood drawings on the walls and thousands of photos with friends and family, now ghosts in this life she endured now. She wanted to go back to the petty arguments her and Claudia would go through, just like normal sisters did. She wanted to go back and talk about boys and shopping with her mother, back to flushing red with embarrassment from her dad when she brought home a new boyfriend. What she would give to relive their holiday in Spain and England, the four of them together, blending into the world like everyone else. What she would give to just be a girl with dreams and not the Martha Thatcher everyone knew today.

Everyone in New York and beyond knew her as the sister who made it out of the impossible. She just wanted to be known as Martha the nobody.

She never wanted to be the responsible one. After her mother and father died, she was thrust with the responsibility as guardian to Claudia. Look where that had gotten her! Claudia was rogue and in trouble, and Martha was locked in a cell just waiting to die. What kind of guardian let that happen? What would her parents think? Not only had she brought Rick into their lives, but she had also failed to protect the one person worth living for. If that wasn't enough to get her down this low, she wasn't sure what would.

All this time, Martha had just been surviving and not living. She'd been surviving everyday life for Claudia's sake, while inside she was slowly dying. She knew that all the colour had left her, that her vibrancy was now nothing more than a tiny spark in her heart. She remembered when she was little that people thought of her as a little angel, not just because of her looks but also the purity of her nature. Now she was just an angel choking on her own halo.

The door across the room opened. Martha tiredly opened her eyes, red and raw with tears that long ago stopped flowing. It was the same man who had grabbed her on her way home, just as she had hung up the phone when leaving a message for Claudia. He'd come out of nowhere and grabbed her from behind. Her memory was foggy, but she remembered struggling and turning to face him just before he knocked her out with a substance on a piece of cloth. In that moment he had seemed like a monster, but now he just looked like a very sad young man as he looked at her.

He couldn't have been any older than twenty seven or eight. His hair was the colour of midnight, tousled and falling into his eyes, which were the same colour as emerald gems. Tall and lean, he reminded her of a cheetah, slim and seemingly nothing to fear when in actuality he was faster and strong, someone who attacked in the moment. With his hands in his pockets and his head cocked to the side, he regarded Martha on the floor with pitiful eyes. Martha returned his stare with one of utter loathing.

"What do you want?" she hissed from her place on the floor, yet she slowly struggled to her knees. He swallowed.

"You're being transferred." he told her in a low voice.

"Transferred? I'm not an inmate."

"They're not my words." he mumbled, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "But your sister is causing problems."

Martha perked up at that, scrambling to her feet but grabbing the wall for balance. "She's here?"

"Yeah," He didn't sound happy about it. "And she's running rogue, which means you have to go."

"I'm not going _anywhere _without her." Martha growled. He watched her carefully, and she was sure that she saw a spark of admiration in her eyes.

"You two have to be the most loyal people I've ever encountered." He smiled a little. "It's no wonder you two get into so much trouble."

Martha felt her mouth drop a little. No one had ever spoken to her like this in a long, long time. It only made her more suspicious of him. He was the enemy here. He was one of the many people who held her captive, who kept her apart from her sister. With that reminder, her loathing doubled its intensity.

"_Get away from me._"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Easy, darling." he murmured gently. She didn't go easy on him.

"You brought me here, so I swear to God if you come any closer I'll scratch your eyes out."

"I don't doubt you." He smiled again, but his expression quickly turned serious. "Listen, I've been watching you and your sister for a while now. You've been under surveillance, and I don't agree with what they're doing to the both of you. Neither of you deserve it. I want to help you."

"Liar,"

"No lies, I swear to you." He edged closer to her but eased off when Martha tensed and cringed into the wall. "I don't want to work for these people. Two years ago all I wanted was a job at Oscorp, and somehow I ended up here without even realising it. Only now do I realise the nightmare they're creating for people; first Dr Connors, then Max Dillon, and now you two." He was speaking quickly now, in a desperate rush to get his words out. "I want to get you out of here."

"Why should I believe you?" Martha snarled.

His eyes softened. "You shouldn't, but right now I need you to." He moved closer, his palms up in a sign of peace. "You need to come with me. They'll put you in a car and I'll be in the one behind. When we get there and you get out, I need you to put up the biggest fight of your life." His featured hardened with a strange, determined intensity. "Give them hell."

A beat passed before Martha quietly asked, "And then what?"

"I'll help you and get you somewhere safe." He didn't let her interject. "I'll then find your sister."

"Why should I trust you?" she whispered, the weight of the word trust heavy on her tongue.

"Because I'm your only chance," he murmured back.

For some God forsaken reason, she believed him. "Who are you?"

"Connor Young," he told her softly, reaching out a hand. "Now let's get you out of here."

It didn't go quite to plan.

* * *

People were running and screaming, but I was beyond caring. I think all of us were. Harry stayed close behind me as I searched for any face I found familiar, while Max went about causing havoc in the building. He could do whatever the hell he wanted, for I only had one agenda on my mind. I hoped to find the guy who had attacked me in my cell, or Stanford, simply because they would probably have a better idea of where Martha was than anyone else. I'd already warned Max that if he found her before me, then he was not to frazzle a single hair on her head; electrified or not, he'd be as good as dead if he did. Remarkably he took this into account with nothing more than a respectful nod.

When I set eyes on the guy who had cornered me earlier, I was no better than a monster unleashed. I ran at him with the speed of a hunting lioness, my hands out ahead of me for a killer blow. He didn't even see me coming. Too busy trying to figure out what the panic was about, he didn't even have the reflect to jump out of my way. Ramming into him with all the force I had, he collided with the wall so hard the breath was knocked out of him. Wrapping my hands tightly around his throat and pushing against him, he was now nothing more than a terrified, lost puppy at the mercy of a bloodthirsty wolf.

"_Where is she?_" I shrieked, just as his face began to flush red as I added delicate pressure to his neck. It felt good to not be on the receiving end of a strangling. When he didn't answer me, his eyes all stubborn as they fell on my face, I pushed harder. "_Tell me!_"

He began to choke under my hands, wheezing as he struggled for air. "P-please…"

"If you don't tell me I'll kill you here and now."

"G-g-_gone!_" he gasped. Annoyed, I released him and knocked him down by kicking his feet out from under him. Harry stood beside me then, the tension in his body barely contained.

"Gone where?" he snarled darkly, rolling the man only his back before pressing his boot down on his chest. For someone who claimed was once a street fighter now looked utterly pathetic. Still choking and gasping at our mercy, he looked up at us with a strange fear swimming in his eyes.

"Oscorp." he wheezed. "Just now."

Harry looked at me with a sinister smile. "Then let's meet them there." he said. With a sharp turn, he began to lead the way out while at the same time beckoning Max back to us with the simple shout of his name. When he did appear, I couldn't help but stop and grin in amazement. Now in a black suit that covered all but his head and fingers, offering him the best protection imaginable. Not that he needed it, though. Floating steadily to the ground before us, his eyes overlooked us respectfully.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Oscorp." Harry answered with finality, beginning to walk on ahead. Max stayed and looked me over before letting his eyes roam behind me, over towards the pathetic man on the floor.

"What about him?" he inquired almost casually, not letting his eyes drift away from him. I looked back over my shoulder just in time to see him clamber to his feet, clutching his throat with was now ringed with an imprint of my hands.

Walking away in pursuit of Harry, I said, "Kill him."

There was a scream and then nothing.

* * *

The trip back to Oscorp was fast and probably illegal. The guy driving didn't say a word but went exactly where Harry demanded him to go; I wondered how much he got paid in order for him to actually break the speed limit without question.

I fidgeted a lot in the back seat beside Harry, more than desperate to get there and reunite with my sister. Beneath the hard skin of vengeful anger, I was sick with worry. I'd hoped that this would never happen again, but now that it had I wanted nothing more than for the nightmare to be over. I had even planned it in my head that once it was over, we could move somewhere outside of the city but remain in America, maybe find somewhere in the suburbs. At least it would be safer.

But that had to wait. In a blur, Harry and I got out of the car and rushed into the building, and on the outskirts of my mind I saw the electricity begin to fail; Max was nearby. I could feel his energy flowing through the floors, humming in the walls, prickling the steaming blood beneath my skin. He was everywhere, hidden in brick, teasing the blood, sweat and tears of innocents, just ready to make them all pay for his own misfortune. I hope he got his justice the way I was going to get mine.

In a blur of motion and adrenaline, we found ourselves just short of Harry's office. My breath caught in my throat just as Harry held out his arm to stop me. The look he gave me told me to follow his lead, which would have usually gone amiss on me. Not now. Right now I needed to play my cards right. Despite the ever growing anger, I needed to stay controlled and careful.

Max was there, his back to us. Not a minute later, a body fell limp in front of him; a hole had sizzled sickeningly through his chest, effectively burning away his heart. I knew I should have felt violated, but I felt only numbness. I didn't care anymore. Later I would learn that he had been the head of my surveillance as well as Peter's, resulting in his death becoming more meaningful to me.

With Harry's hand on my elbow, he slowly guided me forward; I could feel the trembling in his skin, declaring his own eagerness to get this over with. I heard a crash and saw the distant shattering of glass and eruption of personal items, but I couldn't wave my gaze from the stunned expression etched into Menken's face.

He looked completely lost for a moment, his professional stance lost. He a few pleasurable seconds he looked like nothing more than a little man thinking he was bigger than the world. He stared at Max in terror, a child reliving a past nightmare of some kind. It wasn't until Harry and I slunk forward that his mask returned, his face flushing with rage that he had no right to gain.

"Today has been full of events, hasn't it?" Harry said with a graceful gesture of his hands, chuckling almost innocently. I stayed silent, glaring ferociously at Menken. His gaze fell on me with a certain amount of reluctance, like he didn't want to believe I was here.

"_You!_" he hissed at me, pointing a trembling finger. "Are you _begging _for a death wish?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm begging for _yours._"

I could feel the smile on Harry's face before he spoke. "You really pissed her off. You pissed _me_ off, for that matter. It's time you paid up."

"With my life?" Menken demanded almost mockingly.

"Not yet," I said slowly. "First I want to know what you've done with my sister."

He looked at me like I was nothing more than a silly little girl. "And why would I tell a little bitch like you something like that? You asked for this, Claudia, not me."

I smirked and clicked my fingers without uttering a word. I saw a fleck of confusion ignite in his eyes before he began to jerk, spluttering words out that made as much sense as a monkey on drugs. I smiled when he went down, Max lingering nearby to make sure Menken was completely out of it. Harry began to laugh hysterically, clapping his hands as if it was Christmas morning.

I spotted the gun in the dead man's waistband. While ignoring the stench of burning skin and the rustiness of blood, I collected the weapon in my hands without so much as a blink. I'd held a gun before. I'd even been close to firing it. It had felt so right in my hands back then, especially when aiming it at a man who had practically ruined everything good I had ever known. The only thing that had stopped me back then was morals; I wasn't going to waste a bullet on someone who could suffer in the long term with guilt and self-loathing. Eventually he would learn what a monster he had become and essentially die knowing what he could have had, but instead living with all the wrong he had done. Firing a bullet when that sounded so much more fulfilling is what stopped me. Once upon a time, Rick Hammond had been as human as everyone else in this world.

Menken wasn't. Menken didn't have morals. He had no guilt laced inside him to keep him grounded. He cared only for what he thought was good for the company; people would get hurt if it helped him whether he was concerned. I didn't have the patience for a man like that.

The only thing keeping him alive right now was the fact that he knew where my sister was.

Walking over to Menken, limp and unconscious on the floor, I knelt down and held the gun to his head. Harry said "And clear," to which Max 'shocked' him back to the living, and it was when I stared into the little man's eyes that I knew I was no better than him or Rick. I would live with some kind of guilt for my actions today, and I would be judged for it by everyone I knew and loved. I knew I was turning into a monster. I couldn't help it; the higher in life I got, the harder I fell. The more I tried to run from my demons, the faster and stronger they became to keep up. You can't drown something that knows how to swim; my demons were the ones drowning me.

I clicked on the safety. Menken flinched.

"You asked for this." I snarled.

"You're insane." he snapped back, but the fear was evident.

"_Where. Is. She?_"

"Answer her," Harry said, crouching down beside me. "It's rude to keep a lady waiting. Where in the building is she?"

It was then that Menken smiled a final look of accomplishment, the final triumph. "She's not here." he said proudly, grinning. "Did you really think I'd move her back here? Did you honestly think that the possibility of you escaping went amiss?" he laughed. "You _stupid _little girl!"

With all the fury and despair rising to its peak, I was so close to pulling the trigger. I shrieked a curse, grabbed the gun with both hands, and awaited a jolt and a shot as I pulled the trigger. I was so ready to see the red hole between his eyes, so ready to watch his life go out like a light. I was ready to kill in that moment, so done with everything I didn't know what else to do.

Harry's warm hands enveloped mine around the gun. "Don't."

"_Why?_" I yapped. Tears stung my eyes, blinding me. I was shaking so hard that I was at risk of accidently firing; Harry gently pried the gun out of my hands.

"Go," he whispered.

"_No_."

"Claudia–"

"I came here for my sister!"

Jumping over the other side of Menken and repositioning the gun to his head, Harry looked at me through shadowed eyes. "You can't kill him; I need him."

"You promised you'd help me find her." I snarled, though the hope was draining out of me once more.

"And I will." he said with finality. He snuck a glance at Menken. "But right now I need to sort out our own business. Wait for me here, I'll come back for you. We'll find her together."

"You won't come back." They never did come back.

"You think I won't?"

"I know you won't."

"Believe what you want, but I stand by it." He rose, dragging Menken to his feet. He looked around, making a thoughtful sound to himself. "Max has gone to take care of his business, and I'm gonna take care of mine. Go or stay, Claudia, it's up to you." He turned to Menken and growled ferociously in his ear, while I distantly felt a spark of fear for Peter. "The spider venom, take me to it." And, with a final push of the gun against the little's man's head, I was alone.

For a few minutes, maybe longer, I sat on the floor feeling absolutely nothing. I was so drained I couldn't even think straight. I didn't have anyone to help me; I didn't have Peter or Gwen, I didn't have Harry or Max. I was trapped in the middle of good and bad, belonging nowhere. For a minute, I thought it was all over and accepting defeat, accepting that I would probably never see my sister again.

And the Felicia walked in.

"I can help you." she said, her eyes glassy and full of knowledge.

"That's what they all say." I mumbled, unable to sound angry anymore. I wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and forget about the world.

"They took her from Ravencroft just ten minutes ago." she said. "They're taking her to a safe house."

"Why should I believe you?" I demanded, tears falling down my cheeks. She stood with a sad smile on her face.

"What do you have to lose?" she responded softly. "If you get to Times Square in the next fifteen minutes, you'll catch them." She turned to leave like a ghost in a dream. "Your choice, Claudia."

Choices. It was always about choices. There was a choice for everything, an alternate solution. Choices are what defined us, what ruined us or saved us. I had a choice to make right now.

Peter was in trouble; Max was out there, out for his blood.

Harry was out to kill Spiderman, unknown to him as his best friend.

Martha was being taken somewhere against her own will, and she needed me more than ever.

I had a choice to make; help Peter or find my sister. Later I would know that neither decision would matter. Choices defined us, but they also tore us apart piece by piece and shattered any hope of being fixed. Whatever choice I made, it would always be the wrong one. Fate was out to get me, after all.

I got up, breathing down all the lost hope and regained what little energy I had left, and made way for Times Square.

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	22. Collision

**I hope you all have a shock blanket**

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9:58pm was when I got to Times Square. 10:17pm was the time that everything went to hell.

When I got there, the place was still not entirely back to its glamorous state. Construction was still underway, the oversized TV screens that used to show advertisements and breaking news were still shut down, and yet the mayhem unfolding was out of this world. Panic swam around me like a whirlwind, filled with screams of desperation and confusion. People were everywhere, searching for love ones while trying to understand what was going on. Cops were left, right and centre, their cruisers blocking the roads while men spoke into their radios demanding what was going on. In the middle of all this, I was just about losing my mind.

Someone grabbed my wrist as I shoved through the sea of bodies. I spun so sharply that my head spun, blurring the chaos around me in a disorienting variation of lights and darkness. I pushed and shoved against the person who had hold of me, but after a few seconds I could see his face. I stared, recognising him as the construction worker who had told me there was hell in my eyes. His eyes were wide with fear and I could feel his panic like it was my own, his hair wild with dust and his face grey with dirt.

"Let go of me!" I yelled at him, trying to tug out of grasp. He shook his head vigorously. "Are you deaf? _Let go!_"

"You shouldn't be here." he said to me in a gravelly voice. "You shouldn't be here, girly."

"No? Well I am, so I swear to God if you don't let go–"

"You'll die."

"_What?_"

"Tonight is the night you die if you don't run away." He yanked me closer, so hard I thought my arm would pull out of my shoulder. He was much taller than me, so pulling my arm up above his head almost had my toes off the ground. Fear prickled my skin, yet I remained defiant and struggled against him. "Get away from here, girly. Run while you can, or Hell will be your new home."

"I'm counting on that." I snarled, and then jumped. Ramming my feet into his gut he went sprawling across the floor, winded. I didn't look back, running deeper into the crowd while he screamed after me.

It was then that I saw them. Peter and Gwen, though Peter was as his alter ego. They were bickering together with an officer standing between them, and I had never seen Gwen look so distressed before. Distantly I wondered what she was still doing in New York, but that was a distant thought as I bolted towards them.

Gwen caught sight of me. Smacking Peter on the arm, she sprinted in my direction with Peter hot on her tail. Gwen's body crashed into mine so hard I gasped, only to grab hold of her in a vice grip. I buried my face in her shoulder, sobbing wretchedly, never wanting to let go. She was so warm and solid and _real, _I couldn't imagine letting her go ever again. For a blissful three seconds I was able to forget about everything.

"What happened?" she demanded, pulling back.

"Os-Oscorp… M-Menken kidnapped me a-and Martha…"

"Shh," Peter hushed, sounding as gentle as ever. He shielded us from the mayhem unfolding, blocking everything out so that we could reform in our little bubble. I wanted to hold him, wanted to tell him I loved him, but even I knew that that moment wasn't the time. Too much was happening, panic was thick, so the only thing I could hope for was being reunited with two of the three people who mattered the most to me. "You're safe now,"

"N-no." I shook my head. "I need to find Martha."

"She's still missing?" Gwen said, her face horror struck.

"She's being transferred," I said too quickly, jumping over my words. "They're passing t-through here any minute."

"Claudia, we need to get you out of here." Peter said, looking around. I could feel his unease, smell it among everything else foul and wrong in this place. I could feel something else in the air, something sick and terrible. It made my skin crawl, and in truth I wanted nothing more than to run and hide until the danger passed. But I wouldn't. I would never do that and leave the ones I love to fight for themselves. I loved to fiercely to do that.

"No, not without Martha!"

"We'll find her–"

"_I won't leave her!" _

The screams around us intensified until I couldn't think. Everything happened all at once. People began to run, women and children hysterical while the men tried to make sense of what was happening. Distantly, I heard the screeching of multiple cars, and officers began to bellow into their radios for backup. It would be too late for that.

Headlights beamed just out of Times Square, racing towards us. Tires shrieked against the road as they desperately tried to keep up speed when turning a sharp corner, while their engines roared as loudly as a pride of lions. They were heading straight towards us without any intention on stopping.

But that isn't why people were screaming.

In the same moment, Max was there. He appeared out of nowhere, livid but alive with motive. He screamed something but what was beyond me. Officers began to fire at him almost instantly, adding to the already uncontrollable panic. Peter tried to shove me and Gwen out of the way, but I was too focused on the cars approaching us at impossible speeds. Time seemed to slow down, everything else around me meaning nothing. I saw Peter's arm wrap about my middle but I didn't feel it. I was aware of Gwen screaming but heard no sound. I watched the world spin as I was thrown to the ground yet I felt no pain.

My head began to split in agony, yet I could tear my eyes away from the horror that was about to happen. In the deafening silence I was screaming. I was screaming for Max to not do it, I was screaming for the cars to turn around, I was screaming for the inevitable to just be a terrible nightmare.

My hands sizzled on the ground. In agonising slow motion, the electricity left Max's hands and down into the ground. I watched it approach Peter, whose body was shielding mine and Gwen's from the stampede of frightened civilians. In the following seconds, from a simple cry of Peter telling us to move, I managed to scramble back and throw myself over the top of a car. Gwen wasn't behind me.

The cars were screeching as they tried to brake. There was two of them, both black and blacked out windows. Seeing the electricity in the ground and the cars struggling to stop, I was doing to most stupid thing in my life. I ran towards the first car, insane with terror.

I was thrown back before I made it two sprints. Every bit of pain imaginable was raging inside me in that moment. Car alarms started sounding all around me while people were thrown to the ground. It was Times Square all over again, but this time it was worse by all accounts.

My back slammed into the side of an abandoned car. I shrieked, blinded by pain, and found myself shuffling under it when shards of glass went flying from every angle. Cars toppled, scaffolding from the construction fell with deafening clarity, but that didn't pull my attention from the cars.

I wanted to die. The first car was already struggling to brake, spinning uncontrollably. The electrified ground interconnected with its tires, and before anyone knew it the entire thing was spinning over and over, smashing the glass and denting the framework. The second car slammed into the first so hard its back end lifted, rising it up to a vertical angle before it slammed down on its side. I could feel the collision in my own body, accompanied by the buzz of Max's energy which died off as soon as the crash was over.

I stared in disbelief. I heard a ringing in my ears, felt something warm on my hands. When I looked down, I saw that they were torn open and bleeding, multiple shards of glass biting mercilessly into my skin. Blood was also warm on my cheek, sliding down until it dripped off my jaw. Pulling myself out from under the car, I found myself running. Everything hurt, but I didn't care. I was running towards the cars, not thinking, not caring, already feeling the numbness of loss enveloping me in one cruel, cold blanket.

Martha was in the back seat of the first car, now back on its wheels after rolling a total of five times. The thing that was once huge seemed to cage in on her, making her small and broken. She wasn't awake. Blood was bright against her blonde hair, wet as it slid from her hairline and down the side of her face. Her cheek and lip suffered from fresh gashes. Her hands were tied in her lap, but her right wrist was bent at an impossible angle. The chair in front of her was evidently crushing her legs, which I could only guess were as good as broken. I reached my hand into the broken window, touching her skin, feeling for any kind of life. When I held my trembling hand just under her nose, I was met by still air.

I tried the door. It wouldn't open. My head was spinning painfully, and once again I was screaming my sister's name.

Martha, Martha, Martha.

Dead, dead, dead.

This couldn't be happening. It _couldn't _be happening! Not after everything, not after all we had been through. She couldn't be!

Someone coughed and spluttered behind me. I turned for only a second, catching sight of a young man pulling himself through the back window of the second car. Lying on its side, the man had to hop down from the toppled, crushed car; he cried out in pain when he landed on his left ankle. I turned back to the door, desperately trying to get it open.

"Hey!" the man cried. I ignored him, fiddling with the lock on the inside of the door; my hand kept slipping due to the wetness of the blood. "Claudia!"

"_NO!_"

"Claudia, stop!" The man was next me, limping and grabbing hold of the door for balance. His eyes landed on Martha for a mere second, and his already pale face went as white as snow. He grabbed hold of my hand on the inside of the door, halting me from doing anything. I couldn't even bring myself to fight him, staring at Martha as horrible sobs wracked through me. They were so hard in my chest it felt like they were breaking my ribcage. If it wasn't for the blood, she looked like she could have been sleeping.

But she wasn't. Martha was dead. My sister was dead.

"Go," the man said. His voice sounded thick with remorse.

"I can't," I sobbed.

"You have to," he looked over his shoulder, and someone was trying to clamber out of the driver's seat in the second car. "You have to get out of here or they'll kill you."

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"She might not be."

"But she is." I said, hating how dead I sounded. "She's not breathing."

"Get out of here." He ordered, pushing against me. "Let me help her." I didn't move. "Listen to me; she would want you to be safe. So run, if not for your sake but for hers. Don't stand here and defy what she always wanted; for you to be safe." He touched my cheek tenderly. "Go, Claudia, go and never look back." He turned and began to yank on the door. After several attempts, the door pried open, revealing the true mess of my sister's legs trapped against the seat in front of her. The stranger winced at the sight, but began to climb inside and struggled with her seatbelt.

I looked at him and back at her. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and die beside her, just like I had wanted to when mom and dad had died in the street. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and never wake up. What was the point? I'd failed her. I'd failed her when she needed me more than anyone else in the world. It wasn't my fault that she was gone, but it was my fault that she had died alone and afraid. It was my fault we had gotten into this mess. I should have just listened to Menken and disappeared from the city. I should have been the good girl everyone truly wanted me to be.

But the stranger was right. She would want me to live. She would want me to carry on fighting. She wouldn't want me to give up like I had done once before.

I stepped back, swallowing down my grief. There were two people who still needed me. Peter was in danger because of Max, all thanks to me. I had to redeem myself. I had to run and help him, because it was the only thing left that I could do before I caved in on myself and wept for my sister. At the moment I wasn't completely alone, but if I stood by and did nothing then I would be. If I died tonight, I would die knowing I had fought until the end.

Tonight was the beginning of the end, starting at 10:17pm.

I turned back, searching the area. For a minute I saw no one I recognised; Peter and Max were gone, much to my inner terror. I searched for Gwen, praying that she was okay, and on cue she was there, running towards an abandoned police car. Giving one last glance to my sister, savouring what tiny hope I had left at her being alive, I ran after my best friend.

But not without paying a price.

Someone bellowed behind me, and when I turned back I saw a man aiming a gun at me. Bloodied and heavily wounded after the crash, the man who had been struggling to get out had a bad aim on me. I ran faster, panicked. I screamed when I heard the gunshot, and the blinding pain that erupted in my side was almost overbearing. But I kept running, if not knocked a little off balance.

Maybe I would die tonight. Maybe I was destined to die with my sister. I had given up caring. Hanging onto my wound, I sprinted for Gwen, hoping to end it all by the end of the night.

I wasn't sure how long I was going to last.

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**Damn I love being mean**


End file.
